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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463225">Splintered</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassielassie/pseuds/cassielassie'>cassielassie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, Grief, Healing, Hermione's mother dies, Hints at Hermione/Draco endgame, Triggers, UHEA for Hermione/Ron, unhappily ever after challenge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassielassie/pseuds/cassielassie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything can go from fine to fractured in a matter of days. Hermione can only watch as the rest of the world moves on after her mother's death, while she remains splintered, broken. Surrounded by people she loves, she feels alone, because who can really understand her pain and understand the blackness in her heart.</p><p>  <i>A heart that's been broke is a heart that's been loved.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HP UnHappily Ever After Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 1</b>
</p><p>
  <em> I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I threw the day old tea from the cup </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Packed up the photo album Matthew had made </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Memories of a life that's been loved</em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b> </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>July 18th, 2004 </em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione sat by her mother’s bedside and clutched her hand tightly, only dimly aware of the beeping of machines. The wires and tubes leading from her mother’s body were hard to look at, but if she sat at the right angle, she could almost pretend they were not there and that her mum was sleeping peacefully. She dimly was aware of people coming in and out of the room, the door squeaking on its hinges. Somewhere behind her, her father’s voice carried softly as a female voice - a nurse? - answered his questions. Hermione focused on breathing in and out, trying to calm her ragged breaths. Trying to keep the gaping emptiness that was threatening to overwhelm her at bay. All she could do was look at her mother and remember what the doctor had said three mornings ago. </p><p>
  <em> We’re afraid that there’s nothing else we can do at this point but make her comfortable. </em>
</p><p>The doctor had delivered the news like he wasn’t ending her and her father’s life. Like the words weren’t going to tear them apart and rip up their existence as they knew it. Such a simple few words, meant to pacify them that there was no pain being suffered. But they had all been laughing a few days ago, everything seemed as if the future was bright - they had made plans for a vacation once her mum was out of the hospital, they were going to go back to the Forest of Dean and claim it for their memories again. And then all of the sudden it wasn’t - her mother wasn’t even conscious anymore. There wouldn’t be any trip with the three of them, like there once had been.  </p><p>The fluorescent lights flickered and Hermione flinched, knowing what it signaled - someone had apparated nearby. Her friends had taken to checking on her periodically, but more often than not they ended up arguing. She knew deep down they just wanted what was best for her, but she needed to be with her mum. She couldn’t leave her alone to face this. So she pretended no one was coming and she didn’t turn from her mother’s side as she heard the door open and her father’s voice trailed off from what he was saying. Another voice joined the conversation, but she intentionally tuned it out. She didn’t want to know if it was Harry or Ron, she didn’t want to face them. She didn’t want the sympathy. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she tried to shy away. </p><p>“Hermione, come on. You need to eat something.” Ron’s voice was soft and uncertain. When she shook her head, he sighed. “Come on, ‘Mione. You can’t starve yourself. Your mum wouldn’t want that.”</p><p>At that Hermione turned, noting the nurse was leaving the room and her father was looking at her with a haunted look. “You don’t know that, Ronald. I can’t leave her alone when .... when ...” her voice cut off and a sob wracked her body, causing her to clutch at her chest at the nothingness that had existed since the doctor spoke to them that morning ripped through her body, feeling as if someone had pulled her heart out of her chest. Someone pulled on her shoulder to turn her from the bed and she lost grip of her mother’s hand and started crying harder, lashing out at whoever had grabbed her. </p><p>Ron cursed behind her but released his hold on her. “You can’t stay here like this. It’s been three days. I know you want to be here, but you have to eat. Sleep.” Hermione didn’t acknowledge Ron’s words, but reattached her hands to her mother’s desperately. He sighed, but his steps went away. “I’ll be back tonight.” </p><p>Ron shook his head at Harry, who pushed his glasses up his nose and grimaced. Hermione’s dad followed after Ron, “The doctors say it won’t be long now.” His voice was quiet, but Hermione paid little mind as the door shut and left her alone in the room. Moments later the fluorescent lights flickered again. </p><p>Her thoughts whirled with all the plans she had made with her parents once restoring their memories. How many they had yet to finish. </p><p>And it wasn’t fair. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s face laid against the blanket, her mum’s hand wrapped up tightly in her own. Ron stood in the back of the room talking to her father in hushed tones before stepping up to the bedside and placing his hand softly on Hermione’s back. She muttered what sounded distinctly like “five more minutes” and Ron’s face curved into a half smile. </p><p>“Hermione, it's almost midnight. You want to go home and sleep in your bed for a while?” His voice was quiet and Hermione stirred, looking up at him blearily. “We can come back right after, but it’ll be a lot more comfortable there. You’ll feel better in the morning.” </p><p>Her hair shifted as her eyes shifted from her mother to Ron and back, unintelligible noises coming out of her mouth. She eventually laid her head back down on the bed and a soft “yeah” echoed through the room as she breathed out. </p><p>Hesitating a second, Ron scooped her up into his arms, her mother’s hand slipping from Hermione’s as she turned into Ron’s chest with another unintelligible muttering. He clutched her to his chest as her father raised his head and pushed away from the wall. </p><p>“I don’t know that I would call that consent,” the leaden voice fell on deaf ears as Ron shrugged. “She won’t forgive you for this.” Ron stopped his walk to the door and turned to look at the other man, the two of them staring at each other. </p><p>“<em>Look </em> at her. I just want her to have a few hours of real sleep,” Ron’s voice wavered, but he cleared his throat with a nod of his head and resumed his pace out the door. Seconds later, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered. </p><p>The clock struck midnight and the portable monitor flat lined and the prolonged beep filled the silence as David Granger crumbled into a chair, alone in the room even as the nurses and doctors rushed in.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong> July 21, 2004 </strong> </em>
</p><p>The director of the mortuary spoke on, his hands moving absently and Hermione could not follow his words - but it seemed her father was. He responded to a question and Hermione looked out the window, refusing to acknowledge Ron who was standing behind her. She kept herself out of his touch and refused to say a word to him. He took her away when she needed to be there and kept her away. </p><p>The talking suddenly stopped and Hermione turned back, her dad looking at her expectantly. “Sorry, what was the question?” Her voice came out faint and she wondered who it was that was speaking, because surely that was not her. </p><p>“What kind of flowers do you think Jean would have wanted?” A tear fell down her father’s face and Hermione felt what was left inside her chest fracture further. She’d so rarely seen her father cry in her life. </p><p>She looked at the book the director was holding out and took it, running her fingers down the pages. Her fingers stuttered over the calla lilies. “Can you get the calla lilies in white?” She looked up to the director and he nodded and she looked to her dad. “These were what you had at your wedding, right? You should get these. She chose them then for a reason …” Hermione’s voice trailed off and she tapped her finger on the book, looking back down. “She was beautiful and pure. We should do these.” </p><p>Hermione handed the book of flowers back to the director who accepted it and made a note in the notebook he was holding. Ron reached out to embrace Hermione’s back reassuringly, but she stepped away towards the window and leaned her forehead against it, watching the people outside enjoying the sunlight. She felt Ron step up behind her again, but he did not reach for her. </p><p>“Mum wants to have you and your father over for dinner at the Burrow.” His voice was hesitant and a small voice in Hermione’s head told her she was overreacting, but she could not stop the frown that permeated her face. </p><p>“I just need to be alone with my dad right now, Ron.” She fiddled with her cardigan absently, to give her fingers something to do. “I can’t … I can’t focus on this right now.” The ring on her finger felt so heavy. The wedding was supposed to be in just four months. She turned so slowly, trying to ignore the hurt in Ron’s eyes. </p><p>“I … I understand, ‘Mione.” He hesitantly reached out a hand to cup her cheek and Hermione resisted the flinch that was there. “I just wish you would talk to me. I’m so sorry about taking you away.” At that Hermione did pull back. </p><p>“No you aren’t.” Her voice was harsh and she registered that her dad had stopped speaking. “You just regret that it painted you as the villain instead of the hero you always need to be.”</p><p>Ron took a step back and his neck and ears turned red. “Take that back, Hermione. You don’t … you don’t get to lash out just because you lost your mum. I get that you’re sad - I’ve been there. But you … you don’t get to hurt me because of it.” </p><p>“Then why did you take me away, Ronald? Because I certainly didn’t want you to - I had made that explicitly clear. My father told you to leave me alone - oh don’t gape like a fish, he told me that he told you to leave me alone. We <em> knew </em> it wasn’t going to be long - the doctors and nurses had been telling us that all morning!” Hermione clenched her fists at her side and breathed raggedly. Ron’s face continued to get redder. “And you took away … you took away my autonomy to choose what I needed. And because what - you didn’t believe us when we said it was imminent? You thought that you knew better than our doctors, just because they aren’t at St. Mungo’s?” </p><p>Ron scoffed and looked to the side before back at Hermione. “We can’t all be as all-knowing as you, Hermione. Sorry that I can’t see the future, I’m not perfect. I was just trying to watch out for you. I've said I'm sorry, haven't I? How many times do you need me to say it?”</p><p>Hermione lashed out and pushed him away. “Just get away from me, Ron. We don’t need you here.” </p><p>Ron stumbled back and his face darkened again. He opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head, turning on his heel and walking out the door, slamming it behind him. </p><p>The fluorescent lights flickered as Hermione looked back out the window and her dad and the director started talking again in hushed voices. The ring on her finger burned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ——</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> July 26, 2004 </em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione slid shaking hands down the front of her dress, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles and looking for the lint that wasn’t there, the tissue gripped tightly in her hands. Everyone was looking up at her and her father with pity - people she didn’t know, from her parents’ dental practice. It was easier to avoid eye contact with every single one of them than to acknowledge why she was here. That hole in her chest might consume her if she acknowledged it. </p><p>The fluorescent lights overhead flickered and Hermione braced, clutching her elbows as she absently looked to the doors to the chapel and watched as the gaggle of redheads filed in, Harry in their midst and holding Teddy’s hand. Most of them sat down in the back and Hermione distantly watched as Ron tried to take a step forward, restrained by Harry at the last minute. Ron gestured towards Hermione and she could see his mouth move and Harry sharply shook his head before pushing him into the pews beside Ginny. Harry looked to the front and his eyes caught Hermione’s. Neither of them moved and Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek at the emotions on Harry’s face. </p><p>Turning to Ginny and Ron, he settled Teddy between the two of them before sliding around the back of the chapel and walking towards Hermione. He stopped a few feet away and cocked his head slightly.</p><p>“I can’t look at him, Harry.” Her voice wobbled out and she took a deep breath trying to keep the onslaught of tears that would bring Ron to the front. “He took me away, Harry. She died without me there because he took me away. My mum died … without … me …” Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking silently as she felt that empty space in her chest grow ever slightly. </p><p>Without saying anything, Harry pulled her forward and tucked her into his arms. Hermione buried her face into his shirt and silently let the tears come at last, knowing her family was wondering why her fiancé wasn’t the one comforting her. Harry ran his hands over her back soothingly and started muttering in her ear.</p><p>“Hermione, I know it doesn’t mean much but he’s tearing himself up over it. He hasn’t slept since, hardly. He really thought he was doing what was best …” Harry trailed off as Hermione pulled back and sniffed, looking off to the side at her dad.</p><p>He was talking to one of the other dentists from their practice and made brief eye contact with Hermione where he gave her a watery smile before turning back to the conversion. Hermione looked back at Harry, using the tissue in her hand to wipe her tears. She opened her mouth a few times before sighing. “I know, Harry. I just … why did he ignore my father and my wishes?” Hermione looked at the floor. “Why couldn’t he just let us be?” </p><p>Harry sighed and pulled Hermione back into him. “Just…don’t write him off yet. We’re all hurting for you. We were supposed to be free from this pain for longer and it isn’t fair.” Hermione mumbled into Harry’s shirt and he took it as an agreement as he continued to rub her back. </p><p>The soft music that had been playing in the background quieted and Harry pulled back to head to his seat. Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay, Harry.” Hermione’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “You're ...you're the only one that understands and can talk about it.” </p><p>Harry nodded and followed her into the seat next to her father, both he and Hermione ignoring the incredulous looks being shot from the back of the room as Ginny whispered furiously to Ron and kept him from being able to get up by pushing Teddy into his lap. </p><p>The priest began speaking and Hermione zoned out, playing with the tissue again and letting Harry hold her up. The fluorescents flickered slightly and Hermione frowned a little, but didn’t look up to see who had arrived - if anyone, as the flicker was faint enough to be a figment of her imagination. </p><p>Before she knew it, the service was done and Hermione was standing beside her father as people gave their condolences and then they were all piled into cars and driving to the graveyard. The clouds hung heavy in the sky and Hermione thought it was fitting for the day. She could feel her hair crackling in the humidity as she got out of the car and followed the pallbearers to the gravesite. </p><p>More words were said and Hermione focused on a tree in the distance, imagining she saw someone leaning against the tree and watching the services from afar. It was easier to focus on that person, real or not, than what was going on around her. At last the time came for her and her father to approach the casket one last time. Uncaring who saw, Hermione conjured a bouquet of white calla lilies and laid them down on the casket. </p><p>“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Mum. I love you. I wish I could have saved you.” </p><p>After a few seconds, Hermione stepped back and let her dad wrap an arm around her shoulder as they watched the casket lowered into the ground, the nothingness filling her chest in full and leaking through the rest of her body. She was vaguely aware of people leaving and giving their well wishes. But she couldn’t look away as the casket was lowered. The dirt slowly piled on top. At some point, her father pulled away and left her standing alone. But there was no feeling left, everything inside of her was empty.  </p><p>Someone stepped in front of her and made her look up at them - a head of unruly red hair and blue eyes with unshed tears. “Hermione … I’m so sorry,” his voice broke and Ron wiped away a few tears from her face. “Have your dad and you thought about if you want to come back with us to the Burrow?” Hermione held back a flinch as he cupped her cheek and let him cradle her face. “Mum wants to feed you guys until you explode since you guys aren’t doing a reception.” He smiled softly and Hermione closed her eyes briefly, tamping down on the churning in her stomach. </p><p>“Of course, Ron. We’ll stop by after my dad says his last goodbyes.” </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> July 28, 2004 </em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione leaned back on her heel, twirling her wand and looking at the fireplace in her apartment. The floo had to be disconnected to stop people from coming in and seeing how she was nothing but empty space now. Ron was going on about something regarding the wedding behind her that Molly had asked him to get her opinion on, but she couldn’t be bothered to focus.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 31, 2004 </em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione read Harry’s letter, realizing she should do something. She should get off the couch. She should write Harry and tell him happy birthday. But there was no feeling left in her chest. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 2</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Poured the old ginger beer down the sink </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dad always told me, "don't you cry when you're down" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But mum, there's a tear every time that I blink </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b> </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 3, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione awoke in the middle of the night with a gasp, clutching her chest and grasping for her wand. </p><p>Until she remembered she couldn’t make this nightmare or the chasm that was engulfing her go away. Ron grunted in his sleep and threw an arm over her and she closed her eyes tightly. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 8, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione stood outside her favorite bookstore and looked inside absently. The shopkeeper raised a hand in greeting and Hermione did the same automatically.</p><p>But there was no sparking of curiosity and happiness. So she walked away, Ron trailing after her and going on about some story from work.</p><p> </p><p>—— </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 12, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione sat on the couch in her father’s living room, listening to him on the phone in the other room without hearing the words. She held the tea in her hands tightly. Ron sat beside her, eyes locked to the TV at some new show. </p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, ignoring the owl tapping at the window with another letter. Ron stood from the couch and let the owl in, taking the letter from its leg and watching it fly back off. He looked down at the front and turned to Hermione.</p><p>“Another letter for you, Hermione. It looks like it’s from Parkinson - do you want to read it?”</p><p>Ron held the letter out for her and Hermione turned her head slowly, looking at the letter before shaking her head. She ignored the light that seemed to wink out in his eyes and turned back to stare ahead absently. </p><p>“Do you want me to open it? It’s the fourth she’s sent you …”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Ron tossed the letter onto the rest of the letters that had come in that weekend while they were at her dad’s before sitting next to her on the couch and wrapping his arm around her, pressing a kiss to her head. </p><p>“Do you need anything? I,” He paused but Hermione did not react. “I know you have a lot to process, but I’m worried about you.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>She’d missed Ginny’s birthday.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 17, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Crookshanks curled into Hermione’s lap, his eyes cautiously monitoring her as she paid no attention to him and continued to stare at the walls. She hadn’t played with him in weeks and Ron never gave him attention.  </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 23, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione stood across the street from the entrance to the Ministry, watching people file into the public restrooms without coming out. They had told her to take all the time she needed, even though she was new to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But she knew they didn’t give other people as much time off as she had taken - a perk of being the <em> Golden Girl </em> - one third of the saviors of the Wizarding World. She scoffed to herself and fingered her wand absently. </p><p>Her career was the one thing she could still cling to - it did not need her to be emotional and understanding. It just needed her to advocate against the old pureblood traditions - being one of the youngest Assistant Deputy Heads had its perks. And her mother had been so proud of her when she got the job. Hermione shook her head abruptly, refusing to continue that train of thought. </p><p>She patted at her hair absently, knowing it had frizzed beyond anything today with the humidity. Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked both ways and crossed the street, joining the line for the women’s bathroom and looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact with anybody. </p><p>She vaguely heard someone saying her name behind her, but she continued to look at the ground and ignore it, thankful when it was her turn to step into a stall. Hermione leaned against the door, calming the beating of her heart as she stared at the toilet and listened to the ones around her flushing. She still had been ignoring the messages from everyone, though she had finally lifted the wards on their apartment to their friends. </p><p>Someone rattled the stall door behind her and with a lurch, Hermione stepped forward and flushed, closing her eyes as she stepped-out into the atrium of the Ministry - how she hated this entrance, but it couldn’t be avoided when she was still keeping her floo off. Swiping at her skirt absently, she quickly turned on her heel towards the lifts. Before she got very far, someone grabbed at her elbow and she turned sharply, the words on her tongue dying quickly. </p><p>Harry’s green eyes gleamed through his glasses as he looked over her. “You’ve lost weight.” Hermione flinched back and Harry dropped his hand, running it through his hair instead and causing it to stick up at all angles. “I didn’t know you were coming back today, Ron didn’t say.” Harry redirected the conversation and Hermione fingered the strap on her bag. </p><p>The two of them stood there for a while, ignoring the glances people threw at them. “I - “ they both started talking and Hermione smiled softly as Harry chuckled. Harry gestured for Hermione to continue. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione swallowed and wished this conversation was not happening in the atrium. “I … I just needed space. I needed to deal with things on my own.” </p><p>Next thing she knew, Harry had pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “I know. I get it. I just wish you’d let me in, Hermione. I … I know I didn’t know my parents, but I understand. To the extent I can.” His voice was muffled and Hermione felt her heart clench - the void was not all consuming yet. </p><p>Neither of them said anything else for a while and Harry didn’t comment on the tears Hermione knew was wetting his shirt. Eventually, the noise in the background died down as people disappeared in the lifts and Hermione finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes quickly. Harry smiled at her and squeezed her arm one last time before letting go. </p><p>“How’s the wedding planning going?” </p><p>Hermione’s nose wrinkled and she smoothed down the non-existent wrinkles in her skirt. “It’s going. Molly seems to be more than content to make the decisions at this point.” She looked up with a falsely bright smile. “It’s better to keep things as they were planned for a sense of normalcy, right?” </p><p>Harry gave her a look before grabbing her arm and leading them to the lifts. “I’m not going to grace that with an answer. If you need to push it back, they’ll all understand.” Hermione tried to pull away and protest, but Harry kept her arm firmly in his grip. “Just … think about it, Hermione.”</p><p>They reached the lifts and Harry pulled open the door and they stepped inside, as he pushed the button for the fifth floor. They both reached up to grab on and she sighed.</p><p>“I will.”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Hermione sighed at the paperwork across her desk, her soup long forgotten to the side. They had covered for her - they really had to the best of their abilities. But it had left so many things left for her to clean up. But not everything could be handled today. So it was one step at a time - and first she would tackle the problems with the legislation allowing a pure-blood second child to inherit everything in lieu of the first born half-blood child. </p><p>Her calendar was full of new appointments for her that day, but her assistant had neglected to note the details for the meetings - her 3pm just said “Inheritance laws - public interest.” No details as to <em> who </em> was coming to her office to lobby for the current rules on the books to be changed - as if she had not already been trying to change these rules as it was. All she had been able to get out of Caroline was that it was a pureblood party who was interested in helping Hermione change this rule and others like it - one step at a time.</p><p>With a sigh, Hermione stopped staring at the calendar entry and pulled the papers about the legislation over towards herself, twirling her wand in her fingers absently as she flipped through, looking at the notes in the margin she had made. The downside to overturning some of the horrible legislation was that those who had passed it had put thought into it - and found ways to require 80% to 100% Wizengamot approval instead of the simple majority. </p><p>Even worse - they had found ways to tie certain of the legislation to specific families - to an artifact or a spell, kept secret for generations. The only clue references to keys and no idea how to track down the particular family that had the right answer for her - assuming they were even willing to let in her the door. More often than not she was scoffed at, a muttered <em> mudblood </em> as they shut the door and went back to their life. </p><p>
  <em> A Lily most pure is the key, toujours conservé avec le noble berger.  </em>
</p><p>Hermione absently tapped her wand to the French, watching as the second half of the sentence changed. </p><p><em> A Lily most pure is the key, always preserved with the noble herdsman </em>.</p><p>As Hermione’s wand absently continued to tap and she watched the clue change back and forth and let out a small snort to herself. A noble herdsman - because that was what the Wizarding World was really focused on. She pulled out the list of the Sacred 28 - the research she was supposed to have done weeks ago - and stared down the list. Her eyes catching on the second from the bottom and her wand stilled.</p><p>
  <em> Weasley </em>
</p><p>She was supposed to become a Weasley by marriage in three months. The wedding of the year for the society pages. That was what Witches Weekly had been boasting it would be. But what would the world say if she came out and said she needed to delay? That she couldn’t celebrate a moment that was supposed to be so pure so soon after losing her mother? </p><p>Ron had never asked her if she needed the time - nor had Molly. Molly had merely thrown herself back into the full-time planning, talking about how the happy event was all they really needed at this time. Something to bring their spirits up and remind the world that in sadness, happiness could exist. </p><p>But what about when all a human felt was a black hole that encompassed their entire body, outside of the irrational strains of anger at their fiancé for keeping her from her mother in the most pivotal time of her life? In their lives. He had ignored her wishes, her father’s, the doctors’. All because she had not been eating? Or sleeping? She’d had plenty of time since her mother died for that, one more day was not going to kill her. But he had taken her away anyway. Taken her sleep deprived mutterings as consent to take her away from that bed where her mum died moments later. No better than it was being restrained. </p><p>Hermione clasped at her left forearm, fighting the tremors that shook her at the memories of the last time she had been restrained. </p><p>“Granger.” </p><p>A voice interrupted her thoughts and Hermione’s head snapped to the door, her hand grasping the wand she had dropped on her desk before she froze in apprehension. She eyed the intruder warily, eyeing the Muggle suit he wore - which likely cost more than she made in a year - and the trade-mark blonde hair. He held his hands up jokingly, his mouth twisting in a smirk or half smile - she couldn’t decide.</p><p>“What do you want, Malfoy?” She finally huffed, letting go of her hold on her wand.</p><p>Malfoy eyed her warily before shutting the door and sitting lazily into the chair across from her desk. Something crossed his face briefly, the corner of his eyes tightening, but it was gone before Hermione could identify it. </p><p>“In my defense, I did knock. Your assistant -“</p><p>“Caroline. She has a name.” </p><p>Malfoy paused, eyeing her again. “Caroline told me to just head in, you were probably buried in research.” He looked at the papers littering her desk and the barely touched soup to the side. “I guess she was not wrong.” </p><p>Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Regardless of what Caroline erroneously told you to do, you didn’t answer my question. What. Do. You. Want.” </p><p>“Do you not keep track of your appointments? Poor form, Granger.” His eyes darted across her desk again. “Given, you seem to not have the organization to even be able to find your appointment book.”</p><p>Hermione seethed in her seat, narrowing her eyes at Draco and opened her mouth to retort before she paused. </p><p>That feeling - there in her chest. That was annoyance she had not known in a while. Not the dull anger she felt towards Ron and not the grief that had consumed her body and mind, but another emotion. </p><p>Before Hermione could analyze the thought further, Malfoy’s drawl interrupted her thoughts. “Kneazle got your tongue, Granger? I don’t have all day, you know.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat. “How much do you even know about what I’m doing, Malfoy? What laws I’m trying to get rid of? And why do you have <em> any </em> interest in helping me on that front?” Malfoy opened his mouth to protest and Hermione waved her hand. “No, no, I get that we’re past the days of Voldemort and you’re clearly functioning in society - we’ve all seen the donations you’ve made and that Astoria was a decent sort.” Malfoy’s eyes tightened slightly and Hermione hesitated before continuing. “But - you’re still a Slytherin. What do you want out of this?”</p><p>Malfoy’s fingers drummed on the chair and Hermione stared at him impassively, absently wondering how on earth Caroline had failed to remember that <em> Draco Malfoy </em>was the one she was meeting with. </p><p>“We’re not having a heart to heart, Granger.” He finally drawled, fingers stilling as he looked at her and refused to break eye contact. “I have my reasons - they aren’t nefarious, but we all have our promises we’ve made.” He reached into a bag Hermione had not noticed before, and pulled out some papers. “I’m invested to see these rules righted, that’s all you need to know.” </p><p>Hermione made no response and continued to look at him, studying the man she had not seen in person in years. He kept his hair cut short and it had that messy styling, she imagined he spent forever on. He had purple shadows under his eyes that she imagined rivaled the ones under her eyes, and she knew vaguely that Astoria had died last fall, after they had been married less than two years, and that his mother had died some time before that. There had been rumors that Astoria was pregnant when she had passed, but neither had survived. Leaving him with only a father, as well. She looked back at his eyes and they seemed to storm with an unspoken emotion that Hermione knew she could identify if she thought about it.</p><p>“We’re not going there, Granger.” His voice was soft, but held a hint of finality. His eyes shuttered again and Hermione did not like the idea that he had been able to read her quicker than her own fiancé could. His long fingers smoothed out a crease on the top paper he was holding.</p><p>Hermione nodded and picked her wand up, twirling it in her hands. “Right. Why would we?” She schooled her face and looked down at the legislation that Malfoy was to help her with. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 26, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione’s hand grasped absently at her side, the shattered mug on the ground. Her brain stuttered as it caught up to the present day and remembered she could not call and ask her mum why her plant was wilting. </p><p>Turning in spot, she absently pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a missive letting her assistant know she would not be making it into the office. Holding her wand loosely, Hermione muttered the spell and watched as the missive disappeared from the spot before stepping over the shattered mug. </p><p>As she tucked herself back in bed, deciding that Thursday didn’t deserve a chance, she felt Crookshanks curl up against her back, kneading her back softly. </p><p>She cried herself back to sleep. She did not wake up when Ron came home and frowned at the mess in the kitchen. Not when he came in and tried to wake her up. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Hermione woke to someone shaking her and she groggily turned over with a muttered “five more minutes,” before something fell on the bed right in front of her nose. Her eyes snapped open and she saw an unfamiliar leather journal sitting in front of her face. Sitting up slowly, she turned to look at Ron with a frown. </p><p>“What is this?” </p><p>Ron shrugged and she picked up the journal, looking down at it and running her finger down the front where her name was pressed. Opening it slowly, she kept her finger pressed against the fountain pen so that it would not dislodge. A white card fluttered into her lap, and she picked up the card stock before looking back at Ron. </p><p>“Not sure, a muggle delivery service dropped it off. One of those guys on a by-sigh-kl?” His eyebrow furrowed as he sounded the word out and he looked down at Hermione. “Said it had been special ordered for delivery today.” </p><p>Hermione laughed, but it came out choked, “It’s pronounced more like by-sickle.” </p><p>She flipped around the card stock, not recognizing the name on the shoppe it had been ordered from. </p><p><em> The hard days always creep up on you. They get farther between, I promise </em>. </p><p>Hermione’s brow creased as she flipped the card around, but there was no signature to accompany the elegant handwriting, and had likely been written by someone in the shoppe. She flipped through the other pages of the journal but found nothing. She held the card in front of her face again. </p><p>“It must have been, Harry.” She looked up to Ron, who cocked his head to the side and Hermione thought of the childhood golden retriever they had growing up. “We always get a cuppa in the afternoon - before … before everything,” she waved her hand absently out to the side, “and we’ve continued to do so since I’ve been at work. He would have known what was going on and just figured a journal would make me feel better.”</p><p>Ron sat down on the bed beside her with a soft hand on her elbow. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione.” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and let herself lean into the arm he proceeded to wrap around her. “I wish I could take the pain away for you.”</p><p>Hermione nodded again, letting Ron rub a hand up and down her back in what was supposed to be soothing as she continued to convince herself it had been Harry. He had lost Sirius, his parents, and been through so much. He must remember that she wrote a lot in sixth year to deal. </p><p>That had to be it. </p><p>After a few minutes, Ron pulled back and padded to the doorway. “I popped by mum’s and brought some stew for dinner she had made. Do you want a bowl?” </p><p>Hermione shook her head, “No, I’m okay.”  Ron nodded and she turned to grab a piece of paper, “I’ll come out after I write a note to Neville to ask why the fern is wilting.” She turned to ask Ron if he wanted her to pass any message to Neville, but he was already gone from the doorway and Crookshanks stood there staring at her instead. </p><p>Pulling a piece of parchment to her, and using the new fountain pen, Hermione quickly wrote a missive to Neville asking if he could pop around that weekend so she could get his opinion on the fern. Standing, she grabbed a treat from the jar as she approached Pig who hooted at her. Hermione quickly attached the missive to his ankle and tried to toss him through the owl entrance, but he veered from the apparent wall and hooted around the room. Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedside table and dropped the enchantment, allowing Pig to fly through the entrance, before pulling it back up. </p><p>“Stupid owl.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 27, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione tapped the quill against the desk and took a sip of her cuppa before jotting down a response to the interdepartmental memo. Satisfied with the answer, she dropped the quill and waved her fingers at the paper, watching as it folded itself up and flew out her open door, narrowly avoiding hitting her visitor in the face.</p><p>Looking at the clock on the wall, Hermione frowned. “You’re two hours early. It’s only 11:45.” </p><p>Without a care, Malfoy folded himself into the chair across from her, crossing his legs and looking at her with his brow raised. Hermione waited for a response, and fidgeted when none was forthcoming. Looking down at her desk, she fiddled with the ring on her finger as she looked for something to do to ignore the grey eyes that were still boring into her. </p><p>Within a few minutes, Hermione found herself deep in the report that had been delivered to her from the Auror’s and quickly started jotting down notes on a spare piece of parchment next to her. She started when Malfoy cleared his throat and jerked the quill across the page, leaving a line through half her notes. Muttering, she used her wand to undo the mark and looked back at Malfoy, whose eyes seemed to be dancing in amusement before going carefully blank. </p><p>“You know it is considered rude to ignore your guests.” He drawled, fingers tapping on his knee absently. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but he continued onward, “It’s also rude to miss an appointment with little warning as you did yesterday.” </p><p>Her mouth fell shut and she felt her cheeks warming up and she looked down at her desk, clearing her throat. “Ah, well …” She looked back up, but noted that there was no look of contempt. “Life is still an adjustment.” Her voice was quiet and she held still waiting to see if Malfoy would strike.</p><p>Instead, he hummed and stood up abruptly. “Well, let’s go then, Granger.” He pulled the grey coat that had been draped over his arm without her realizing. “We have places to be.” He stepped into the corner and pulled her jacket off the rack, holding it out for her expectantly as she remained glued to her seat. </p><p>“Ah, what?” Hermione eyed him warily, not sure what he was wanting her to do. </p><p>Malfoy sighed and waved the coat in his hands. “Come on. You can’t not eat just because she’s dead.” Hermione froze halfway out of her seat and narrowed her eyes at him, but he only scoffed. “Oh, come on. Just because your weasel of a <em>fiancé</em> doesn’t realize that you aren’t ever eating doesn’t mean the rest of the world is that oblivious.” </p><p>Hermione finished standing up and absently rubbed at her ring again with a frown. “Don’t talk about Ron that way, please.” She stepped around her desk and eyed him hesitantly. “There’s nothing for him to notice, everything is fine.” </p><p>Malfoy raised his eyebrows as she allowed him to help her into her coat. “Granger, your clothes make you look like you’re a child playing dress up in her parents’ clothes. While I know not everyone has their clothes custom made,” Hermione snorted, but turned to face Malfoy who raised an eyebrow, “I highly doubt you buy your clothes just to have them hang about you like a curtain.” </p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and headed out the door, turning and pulling it shut with a muttered lock once Malfoy had stepped through. She turned to look up at him and waited for him to finish buttoning his coat before she spoke.</p><p>“And just why do you care, Malfoy?”</p><p>He shrugged, motioning for her to walk ahead of him. “I don’t, I think it’s just sad that you’ve let that buffoon of a man convince you he’s worth marrying.” Malfoy shrugged. “Even if your mum is barely in her grave.”</p><p>Hermione stopped walking and stuffed her hands into her pockets, waiting for Malfoy to realize she had stopped walking. “We’re not going there, Malfoy.” She snarked when he turned, feeling angry flare through her veins as Malfoy’s eyes became carefully blank. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For us to not go there?” She scoffed, even as her left finger anxiously turned the ring around and around in her coat pocket. “You don’t get to… to be all observant and make these scathing remarks about people who will be my family.” Hermione’s voice finally broke, and she looked down at the ground. </p><p>For what felt like hours, neither of them said anything before Malfoy let out a long suffering sigh. “Right, we’ll just go to lunch and talk about the laws. Can we just go? I didn’t eat breakfast.” </p><p>Malfoy turned and started walking again and Hermione started up after him slowly. She noted the pointed glares that people shot Malfoy before noticing that she was behind him, and frowned as she absently picked up the pace so that she was walking beside him. </p><p>But she didn’t bring it up, because they weren’t going to go there. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione stared at the mug on the counter and watched as the color seemed to seep out from the tea bags she had dropped in. The water ebbed and flowed and she focused on breathing in and breathing out, releasing the tension in her neck and shoulders one piece at a time. A hand on her elbow startled her and Hermione jerked, flinching back until she saw Harry’s worried eyes peering at her.</p><p>“Okay there, Hermione?” His voice was soft and Hermione felt a flush come over her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were so zoned out or I would have called your name first.” Harry gave a half smile and Hermione tried to smile back at him, but could tell neither of them bought it. </p><p>Instead, Hermione grabbed her mug and followed Harry off to the side of the room, where they always took their cuppa. She sat down cradling her mug in her hands as Harry grabbed a couple of lemon tarts from the counter. He offered one to her but she shook her head and instead took a sip of her tea. </p><p>Harry took a bite of the lemon tart, eyeing Hermione with a pointed look in his eyes. “He’s right you know,” he muttered around mouthful of the tart before swallowing it. “You know he is, you need to eat.”</p><p>Eyes narrowing, Hermione set her cup on the table with a clink. “Just who are we talking about, Harry.” Harry leaned back in his chair, bracing his hands on his thighs. “Because if it’s Malfoy, why am I a topic of concern between you?” </p><p>Harry held up his hands with a slight roll of the eyes. “Down, Hermione. Malfoy’s been working on a project with our department regarding dark artifacts for years. He mentioned to me that he’s been helping you with some of the laws you’ve been trying to unravel and that when you went to lunch earlier that you barely ate your food.” He leaned forward again, placing his forearms on the table. “And he’s right, Hermione. Regardless of the fact that it’s Malfoy. The weight you’ve lost isn’t healthy. Or maintainable.” </p><p>Harry pushed forward the lemon tart on the table and Hermione stared at it with a frown. </p><p>“Just take a bite, please?” Hermione looked up and registered the genuine concern in Harry’s eyes before she sighed and grabbed the lemon tart, taking a bite out of it. </p><p>“There, happy?” Hermione muttered around the bite of food, but Harry just smiled at her before going on about Ginny’s excitement for an upcoming Harpies game and Teddy’s pure joy at getting to go to the practices and go up on the brooms. Almost without realizing it, Hermione ate the rest of the lemon tart and laughed at Teddy’s antics. </p><p>After a time, they both stood up to head back to their offices, but before they split ways, Hermione touched Harry’s arm to stop him. “Thank you,” Harry grinned at her and Hermione smiled softly. “For today - and for the journal you sent last night. It’s beautiful and I’m excited to use it.” </p><p>Harry’s face scrunched and he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “What journal? I didn’t send you anything yesterday.” </p><p>Hermione blinked at Harry, with a soft “<em> oh </em>” before turning and walking to the lift. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>August 28, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I wish I knew who had sent this to me, because it really is gorgeous. I even ran all of the spells over it I could think of to make sure it wasn’t something like that ratty old horocrux, but the only enchantments I could find related to privacy, so people won’t want to read what I wrote. Which is comforting.  </em>
</p><p><em> Dad’s doing okay. He went back to work before I did, needing to see patients to keep the practice from going under. He worries about me, I think. Which is silly, because I’m surrounded by people I love … even if Ron doesn’t seem to really understand when I could just use a hug and for him to listen, not that I </em> need <em> anything. But it’s a learning curve for both of us. It’s something new to deal with. We’ll figure it out with time.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Work is fine. Almost everyone treats me with kid gloves. The only person that hasn’t been is Malfoy and there’s a weird understanding there. I wish I could ask him about losing his mum and Astoria so close to one another … but every time I think to bring it off, he warns me off. “We’re not going there.” It’s almost a mantra at this point. Half the time he turns it back to me not eating. I am. Just not as much as I was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Besides, it’s not that bad. No matter what anybody says. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 3</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b></em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 5, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter, absently twirling the ring around her finger as she watched the larger Weasley gathering in front of her progress. It seemed as if her absence the past month had not really made much of a difference in the Sunday gatherings - everyone was continuing stories and conversations she did not follow. </p><p>And when they did pay attention to her, it was with pitying smiles and soft touches and “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>George stepped out of the fray and leaned back against the counter next to her, crossing his arms in front but keeping silent. Hermione looked out of the corner of her eye at him, but he did not look at her and did not say anything. Dropping her arms, she shifted so her hip was leaning against the counter and she cocked her head at George, who acknowledged her attention only by raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“How long did you feel empty?” Her voice was quiet, barely carrying over the commotion as Ginny and Ron crashed through on the way outside, broomsticks in tow. “How long until … you had a normal range of emotions again?” </p><p>He finally turned his head towards her and she felt exposed as his eyes dragged over her before making eye contact. “Time.” He looked back out and rubbed absently where his ear should have been. “I still feel empty, though, from time to time. I forget Fred isn’t going to come around the corner to talk about some new idea. That I can’t go to him when I get stuck on an idea. Sometimes, I’m just fine until … I’m not.” George shrugged and turned his head back towards her. “I still feel happiness, but it’s tinged with that bit of sadness I can’t share the moment with him - and I don’t know if that’ll ever go away.” </p><p>Hermione nodded and looked down at the ground, her fingers absently spinning the ring around again. </p><p>“But …” George hesitated and Hermione looked up again, realizing it was finally quiet in the house. “I … still ate.” He gave her a look and Hermione felt the heat rush up to her cheeks. “I participated in the events around me … and if I couldn’t, I told the people around me things needed to be delayed.” </p><p>Turning abruptly to the window, Hermione tried to squeeze down on the feelings that were trying to make their way known. She felt George’s eyes on her still and searched for something to say that was not acknowledging the things George saw that no one else seemed to notice. </p><p>A few more moments passed and she watched everyone outside the window, arguing about something that had happened in the Quidditch match already. </p><p>“I just need people to stop saying they’re fucking sorry,” she muttered, flinching as Harry crashed into the ground after trying to swerve to avoid a bludger. </p><p>George barked out a laugh that caused her to jump and look at him. He grinned at her and shook his head. </p><p>“That never stops.” </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“And then, Ginny came out of nowhere and knocked Charlie right off his broom!” Ron gestured widely, narrowly missing the floo powder pot on the fireplace mantel. </p><p>Hermione hummed appropriately, finding it hard to focus after her conversation with George earlier in the day and knowing Ron would not think anything of her lack of interest in Quidditch. </p><p>Suddenly an arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders and she started, looking up into Ron’s blue eyes, shimmering with an emotion she could not identify. “Right good that you always have insisted we put a cushioning charm on the ground out there so that we had fewer injuries.” His smile was soft and he ran his thumb lightly over her arm before bringing his hand up to wipe away a tear that Hermione had not realized was there. “Was today too much? I … I saw you talking to George. You also barely touched mum’s food, and I know you don’t inhale food like me,” Ron’s mouth curved up in a grin, “but you usually clear your plate.” </p><p>Hermione’s insides squeezed painfully and the circling void gaped ever wider to the edge of everything. Vision suddenly swimming with tears, she looked at the floor abruptly as she tried to get her thoughts together. Ron’s fingers were soft on her chin as he lightly tapped it, forcing her eyes to meet his. </p><p>Hands moving to capture his own, she held his hands to her heart, knowing he would notice her heart was beating erratically as it tried to avoid the void. “I don’t know if I can do it,” the voice that left her mouth was surely not her own, so soft. “The wedding … I don’t know if I can do it without my mum, Ron. I don’t know that I can face that day with this empty feeling inside of me.” </p><p>“We can work through it, ‘Mione,” his fingers rubbed over hers in a soothing motion and Hermione felt a little bit of the tension in her shoulders start to loosen. “We can talk to my mum about scaling it down, we can change the venue or do whatever you need to. But you keep talking about wanting everything to go back to normal, yeah?” Ron pulled one hand free and dashed at the tears falling down her face, but Hermione could not focus on that as the void edged closer to the end of her. “But we should talk about the eating thing.”</p><p>“I wasn’t hungry.” </p><p>Ron hummed, but ran his fingers over hers. “You always say you’re never hungry, but we know that’s not true. I know -”</p><p>“Who are <em> you </em> to tell me what I’m feeling, Ronald,” Hermione snipped, pulling her hands away from him a step back. “You have <em> no </em> right to tell me what I’m feeling or even thinking after what you did.” </p><p>“I’ve apologized for that multiple times, Hermione.” Ron frowned and took a step toward her, but she took another step back, hand brushing against the wall. “You can’t hold that against me forever.”</p><p>“You - you just -” With a stuttering breath, Hermione tried to catch her breath but it kept stuttering, stuttering, stuttering. Her eyes closed involuntarily and she sank to the ground, feeling the wall rise up behind her. Before long, Ron’s fingers soon were rubbing what should have been soothing circles on her back, but all Hermione could focus on were the fraying edges and how she felt like she was floating away and apart from everything in the now. </p><p>A clock ticked in the distance, and Hermione honed in on the sound, ears rushing and words tumbling out of Ron’s mouth unheard. She focused on each tick of the clock, until there was nothing else. </p><p>
  <em> Tick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tick. </em>
</p><p>Before Hermione finally opened her eyes, she registered that the couch was under her and that a blanket had been laid over her, but no one seemed to be near her. Reaching a hand out blindly and finding nothing, her eyes shot open and she stared at the empty living room. </p><p>Without feeling her limbs, she slowly stood up and shuffled around the couch, down the hall, stopping at the bedroom door. Ron’s eyes turned from the muggle TV she had insisted on they get and gave her one of those lopsided smiles that used to set her heart racing, though it now stayed in her chest with a steady thump. </p><p>“I didn’t want to wake you,” Hermione blinked as Ron was suddenly standing in front of her and raising a head to her cheek, gently stroking it. She blinked again as he leaned down and kissed her forehead, feeling all the world like Pig when he was asked to go through the owl entrance. “We can circle back when you’re feeling better, yeah?”</p><p>Hermione mumbled a vague response, only focused on keeping him from knowing how empty she was inside and wishing the cotton feeling would go away. </p><p>How broken she was.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 7, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy is insufferable. I still don’t know what his motive is for working on this law with such a single focus, and we have made a lot of progress - we even narrowed it down to the Black family, which makes life easier with only him remaining as the blood heir even if Harry lives in the house.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But he’s insufferable in how much he pays attention to my diet. I haven't been losing weight at the rate I had been, but that’s not enough for him. He’s taken to scheduling meetings through lunch almost every time now so that he clams up and refuses to work when I don’t want to eat and no matter how much I yell at him, nothing works.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t know why he cares. Sure, maybe George and Ron said something in addition to him and Harry. But no one else seems to think it’s such a matter of life or death as he does.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s not like I weighed more when we were on the run. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 13, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Today hasn’t been a good day. I haven’t gotten out of my pajamas and it's 4pm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ron tried to make my mum’s lasagna recipe to cheer me last night. It was horrible. I couldn’t eat a bite.  So I went to bed. I don’t know if he came to bed, because he was gone when I woke up. I decided not to go in. Harry brought me a cuppa this morning, said Caroline had let him know I wasn’t coming in. But he couldn’t stay around.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy sent me a note. It was surprisingly kind. But we’re not going there, per him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 17, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione squinted up at Malfoy who had a perturbed look on his face as he stared at the rain, mindful of those that were still giving them a wider birth than she was normally afforded as they stood under the awning outside the Ministry. It was nice to have people avoid her for once and not seeking her out … even if it was because of prejudice that wasn’t any better than what had led them to the last two wars. </p><p>Malfoy turned to her to say something and instead narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“Get that thought out of your brain, Granger.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, but dutifully turned back out to look at the rain. “We are perfectly capable of using magic to keep the rain off of us. You know,” she wiggled the wand up at him that she had in her hands, “magic?”</p><p>Malfoy was still, but kept his eyes trained on her. “You are aware that being seen out in Diagon Alley with me <em> will </em> cause an uproar, correct?”</p><p>“I’m an adult, Malfoy. I’m perfectly capable of spending time with whomever I want, whenever I want to. So what is it to anyone else if I get a cuppa with you?” </p><p>He shook his head slowly, but placed his hand in his pocket for a brief moment and stepped out into the rain, Hermione raising her eye at his non-verbal spell. After a moment, Hermione stepped out after him and he took off down the street at a clip, leaving Hermione to catch up with him. </p><p>After a moment, Draco stopped abruptly at a door that Hermione had never seen before and pulled it open, allowing her to step in first after she read the name above the door, <em> The White Rabbit </em>. Looking around once inside, she noted the muted color tones but open atmosphere of the shop. Malfoy was speaking softly to a young woman who Hermione had missed by the door. After a minute, she led the way into the open cafe and Hermione stepped after her, noting the heat of Malfoy as he stepped close behind her. </p><p>She folded into the chair Malfoy had pulled out for her with a roll of her eyes before he tucked himself into the chair opposite, unbuttoning the coat he was wearing that day and looking at the menu in hands. Hermione opened her mouth, but Malfoy’s drawl cut her off.</p><p>“I’m aware that you are more than perfectly capable of pulling out your own chair, Granger,” he looked across the table to her and raised one eyebrow,” But accept that some wizards are taught to have manners.” </p><p>“Ron is perfectly mannered when needed,” she mumbled as she looked down at her menu, ignoring the scoff from across the table. </p><p>The server stopped by the table and Hermione ordered her cuppa, handing over the menu as Malfoy ordered a cuppa and several types of scones, handing over his own menu. </p><p>“Hungry, Malfoy? I’m sure your house elves would be upset to know they aren’t feeding you properly.” Hermione sniffed and leaned back in the seat.</p><p>“You are perfectly aware that my elves are paid, Granger,” He pulled a small notebook out of his jacket and placed it on the table, where it enlarged, flipping to the last page of his notes, before he looked back up at her. “You were the manager that sent a case worker to inspect them after your grant finally passed for spew.” </p><p>“S.P.E.W.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m aware, society of pitying -”</p><p>“Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, Malfoy.” </p><p>One side of Malfoy’s mouth lifted in a smirk and he nudged his notebook to the side as the server brought out their cuppas and scone. Malfoy quickly spooned in some honey to his cuppa, “You’ll appreciate the brews, they’re on the stronger side.” He quickly dropped one of the chocolate scones on a plate and set it in front of her, before pulling one of the others closer to him. </p><p>“I would have ordered the scone if I needed it, Malfoy.” </p><p>At that, he paused with the scone halfway to his mouth before dropping it back down. </p><p>“Bollocks.”</p><p>“Malfoy,” Hermione glanced a look to the side but no one seemed to be paying them any mind. </p><p>“Granger, your clo-”</p><p>“And what do you care?” she snipped, lips pressed into a thin line. “You said we aren’t going to go there, so who are you to care?” Hermione’s voice rose an octave and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she promptly looked to her hands in her lap, picking at the skin around her nails. </p><p>Silence reigned over the table and Hermione chanced a look up through her eyelashes. Malfoy seemed to be clenching his jaw tightly, his eyes shuttered as he looked to the side and Hermione scoffed softly, dropping her eyes. </p><p>“I lost four stone,” his voice was soft, but dangerous, “before any of my friends bothered to do anything. After … after Astoria passed.”</p><p>Hermione looked up and watched in fascination as Malfoy slowly pulled the scone in front of him apart. </p><p>“It took Blaise coming back from Italy - he left right after the funeral.” Malfoy’s grey eyes raised slowly, meeting her own and his hands stilled over the plate. “He sent me to a program in France, where it would be kept from the papers.” His chin jerked at her plate and his long fingers grasped the cuppa in front of him. </p><p>“That broken heart - that’s because you know how dearly you were loved by your mum. That’s a heart that knew love.” </p><p>Her eyes darted across Malfoy’s face, looking for anything that screamed this was a joke. For once, she just saw pain - it was slight, he still had his mask. His eyes had dropped again to the scone in front of him, which was utterly shredded, and his hand shook a little as he picked up his cuppa and took a drink. </p><p>“So… please, Granger. Eat the scone.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes blinked rapidly, the black-hole in her chest shuddering a little, but refusing to give up the grip it had on her body. </p><p>But she picked up the chocolate scone and took a bite. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 17, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Apparently Seamus saw me enter The White Rabbit with Malfoy today and promptly told Ron over drinks tonight. I had forgotten how vitriolic Ron could get over Malfoy. Dealing with that while he was drunk had not been high on my list of things to do on my birthday weekend.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I should have just told him from the beginning we had been working together. I don’t know if it would have stopped Ron from going on about Malfoy messing with me when I’m already vulnerable.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m broken, not stupid.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 19, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>The tape started from the beginning and Hermione curled into the corner of the couch, clutching the mug in her hand. She heard Ron and her dad’s voice coming from the kitchen, probably eating the rest of her cake that was left there. A part of her brain kept chanting at her that she should go in there and be with them, be present to celebrate her birthday.</p><p>But all she wanted to do was listen to her mum’s laugh again and again. </p><p>So she did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 20, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Pansy stopped by the house today. Apparently she tried to see me at work and ran into Harry who had stopped to get some papers for me from Caroline. Insisted that she needed to talk to me and took the papers from him without giving him a chance to protest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sometimes I think, in another life, the two of them would have made a great couple. Regardless of the fact that she reamed me for ignoring her letters because really, how could I be expected to support her fashion line when I couldn’t even answer a letter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’s a menace but … I needed her energy today.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy sent me scones from The White Rabbit with some vague note about apologizing for missing my birthday. Harry is far too willing to share my reasons for being home with him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He also asked me to eat.  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 4</b>
</p><p>
  <em> You were an angel in the shape of my mum </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When I fell down you'd be there holding me up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Spread your wings as you go </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b></em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>October 14, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy insisted on going out for a working lunch, taking me to some hoity-toity French restaurant that had just opened in Diagon Alley.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And of course, Luna was there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, she had to flaunt over and make a comment about how the wracklespurts around me did not seem as heavy as they had at drinks the Friday before. And make some comment about how the “veil of sadness” I had been wearing since July seemed to be lighter when I was sitting there with Malfoy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy was insufferable for the rest of the afternoon. He didn’t stop smirking once.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I practically ran away from him after. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>October 30, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione stared down at the costume that Ginny had delivered for her for the Halloween party that night. Because wasn’t her friend just being <em> so nice </em> when she had offered to pull together an outfit for Hermione? Just one less thing she needed to worry about right now. Just so considerate!</p><p>She stared at her reflection in the mirror without blinking.</p><p>“I’m going to <em> kill </em> her,” Hermione breathed, blinking slowly and cursing the witch who had even attached a glamor to the costume to make her eyes yellow. </p><p>“Hey ‘Mione, are you -” </p><p>She turned sharply as Ron’s voice caught and he eyed her up and down from the bedroom doorway. His face slowly cracked into the widest shite-eating grin she had seen in months.</p><p>“Don’t. You. Dare.” She hissed, eyes narrowing as Ron dragged a hand down his face as if trying to wipe the smile away, but it remained there even when he dropped his hand. </p><p>A strangled noise left his throat and Hermione stomped her foot. “Ronald. Don’t-”</p><p>“She - she did it,” Ron doubled over with his hands on his knees, belly laughing. “She dressed you as a cat.” </p><p>Hermione crossed her arms and glared at Ron while he kept gesturing and laughing, before he finally stood up, his eyes still gleaming. She eyed the fake glasses on his hair and noticed that his hair had a dark glamor on it. </p><p>“What are you supposed to be?” </p><p>Ron ran his fingers through his hair, lifting it off his forehead and showing the scar that had been charmed there. “Of bloody course,” Hermione mumbled, turning to the bed to grab her purse. </p><p>“Is that -” Ron’s voice cut off as another round of laughter took him over and Hermione snapped back around once her purse was in her hand. </p><p>“Yes, she bloody charmed a tail onto it and she’s not going to survive the night. So if we can go, I have business to take care of.” </p><p>Ron closed his mouth, but his eyes shook with laughter as Hermione squeezed past him. As she picked up the floo powder, she felt Ron come up behind her and hold her to his chest and she breathed through her nose. </p><p>“While my sister my regret tonight forever,” his voice was still heavily laced with laughter and Hermione squirmed in his arms, “you can’t say that she doesn’t know how to appreciate the night.” </p><p>Ron turned her around in his arms and Hermione was surprised to see his eyes at her height. “You look good, ‘Mione…” he hesitated, eyes flickering over her face. “But you look a little … thin.” </p><p>Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line and she jerked out of his arms. “No. Not tonight, we aren’t having this conversation.” </p><p>Before Ron could say anything else, Hermione had turned and tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, and called <em> Grimmauld Place </em>, stepping out of the other fire and taking a few steps so Ron would not run into her if he followed shortly. </p><p>Her eyes turned around the foyer and she shook her head inside at the extent the room was dressed up. As the floo behind her flared to life, Harry stepped into the room.</p><p>“Herm-” His voice choked off as he looked at her outfit and for the second time that night, Hermione narrowed her eyes as Harry began guffawing. </p><p>“You better not have assisted Ginerva, Harry.” Hermione snipped, taking a few steps forward and keeping her eyes on Harry. </p><p>He quickly brought his hands up and shook them, though his body continued to shake. “I had no idea, Hermione, but this is the best thing of the night.”</p><p>Hermione grumbled under her breath, but let Harry wrap her into a hug. As he released her Hermione gestured behind her, “Ron -” She stopped when she realized it wasn’t Ron standing behind her, but Malfoy who had his eyebrows raised. “Oh.” </p><p>“Yes, so great to see you too Granger.” Malfoy drawled, reaching out to shake the hand that Potter extended to him and released as someone stepped through the floo. </p><p>Malfoy took a few steps towards Hermione and she took the opportunity to look over his black clothes and what looked to be a black traveling cloak with a critical eye. “What are you supposed to be? I’ve never seen you come to one of Harry’s reclaiming Halloween parties before.” </p><p>He paused a few steps away from her and held out the cloak to reveal that it was more of a cape with a red interior. “Vampire. Blaise joked that I was pale enough to pull it off,” Hermione rolled her eyes with a muttered <em> of course </em>, but Malfoy continued. “He’s invited me to the last few, but I have been … preoccupied by personal matters and never made the effort to come.” </p><p>Hermione hummed at that and nodded her head. Of course - she had looked it up after his visit and knew that Astoria had died last November and his mother the September prior. She heard Harry laugh again as the floo went off and peered around Malfoy to see that Ron had just stepped through and was grinning like a maniac at Harry. </p><p>“Well, I hope you enjoy,” she gestured generally through to the main room, where music and voices could be heard and moved to step around Malfoy towards Ron, but he grabbed her elbow lightly and she looked up to see an amused look on his face. </p><p>“Why is Potter so amused that you’re dressed as a cat, Granger?” </p><p>Hermione flushed and heard Harry laughing again, narrowing her eyes as he grinned at her across from the room, even Ron grinning broadly as Malfoy stared at her expectantly. Turning on her foot back towards the main room, Hermione stalked off. </p><p>“<em>I’m going to kill her. </em>” </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>November 24, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione stood in the fitting room, barely processing as the witch with the measuring tape bustled around her and muttered where the dress hung loose. She stared at the face in the mirror in front of her, processing the bags under the eyes that seemed to be embedded into her face permanently. She did not remember her cheek bones being so sharp, but she also could not remember the last time that she had looked in a mirror. The bare minimum to her hair and no make-up in the mornings. </p><p>No looking at her mother’s eyes that shined back at her. Though she was hard placed to find her mother in the lifeless brown orbs that stared back at her. </p><p>“I know every bride wants to be skinny on their wedding day … but this does seem extreme.” </p><p>Looking over her shoulder, Hermione frowned at Pansy in the corner. “I didn’t ask, Parkinson.” her voice came out sharp and she watched Pansy’s eyes shutter. </p><p>All of the damn Slytherin’s shuttered. </p><p>Pansy stalked to stand next to the mirror and Hermione’s eyes tracked her, noting the critical eye that Pansy shifted over her and she clenched her hands. “Back to last names, I see.” Pansy’s voice was soft, eyes finally landing on Hermione’s face. “All that goodwill built up for nothing, I see.” </p><p>Hermione maintained eye contact before she finally conceded, looking at the floor. “I just don’t need a bunch of people poking into my life that never cared before.” </p><p>“Just because you didn’t realize, doesn’t mean we didn’t care.” Pansy flipped her hand absently, turning on her heel. “I’ll let it go, because I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.” She paused at the curtain, and turned back with a glare. “But I expect you to behave for the editorial. This is my big break, Granger. The one you promised me.” </p><p>The curtain twitched close and the choruses of the Weasley women outside bombarded Pansy, asking how Hermione looked in the dress and how much longer until she would be back out. Pansy gave a non-committal response, her arch voice hiding any of her thoughts. </p><p>A finger tapped her waist softly and her head jerked down, looking at the petite witch that was holding the measuring tape. “You will lose some of the lace detail on the side when I have to magic this to fit. Should I assume you will not gain any weight?”</p><p>Hermione thought back to the first day she had seen the design Pansy had shown her and how animated Pansy’s face had been when she talked about launching her own fashion line. How she’d fallen in love with the lace detail and had immediately duplicated the design to show her mother and how days later they had all three gotten afternoon tea, her mum gushing over all of Pansy’s designs. How she had enjoyed getting brunch with Pansy as she convinced her the wedding dress was the perfect time to start the line and to quit her job at The Daily Prophet. How proud Pansy had been the first time she tried on the dress in the tiny store upstairs and how her mother had been awed by the lace detail, the faint sparkle in the dress. How her mum and her laughed in joy over wine at dinner just thinking about the dress. </p><p>But it did not matter anymore. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s fine.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>November 26, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> You aren’t here. It feels so wrong. I feel disgusting. How can I put that white dress on and go through tomorrow without you here?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Will I regret this? What would happen if I just disappeared? I could escape to the wilderness where no one finds me and I just give into the void and broken person I am.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I miss you. So much. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>November 27, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>The birds outside chirped away, the leaves rustling on the trees at the slight breeze that carried through the crisp autumn day. Hermione sat on the balcony of her apartment, the journal held loosely in her hands as she stared out. The faint sounds of the city carried on in the background and she closed her eyes, listening to people call out to one another and the honking cars. </p><p>The normalcy of it all. </p><p>Behind her, she heard Ginny and Pansy arguing about the bridesmaids' dresses, some asinine detail that she could not find it in her to care about. Just like she had not really cared what shade of cream the napkins were or that the florist she had originally ordered the flowers from had an infestation in the store that had ruined her flowers the week before. </p><p>How Molly had ranted about using a muggle florist for the next few days, regardless of the fact that she had told them that it was the same place that did the flowers for her parents wedding. </p><p>The door behind her slid open before quickly being closed and someone sat down loosely in the opposing chair. Hermione turned her head softly to see Luna sitting there, already dressed with her hair done, little radish earrings dangling from her ears. </p><p>“The wrackspurts are heavier about you today than usual,” Luna’s voice was soft and Hermione turned away again immediately, hoping to avoid answering. “But I guess that should be expected given who is absent today.” </p><p>Hermione did not respond and Luna hummed a song softly under her breath. A bird hopped along a branch across the courtyard and darted out to grab something Hermione’s eyes could not make out, her mind drifting back to a conversation from the other week. </p><p>“Luna,” she started, turning in her seat to look at the blonde who was gazing at a bowtruckle climbing on the tree in front of them. “What did you mean the other week?” Hermione swallowed as Luna turned and looked at her. “When … when you saw Malfoy and I?” </p><p>Luna hummed softly, leaning over the railing reaching her hand out to the bowtruckle who was hesitantly investigating her hand. “Since the war, everyone has been a little bit stuck within themselves, except you.” The bowtruckle slowly climbed onto Luna’s hand and Luna pulled it back to her chest, stroking it softly. “But when your mum died … you retreated.” </p><p>Hermione stared at her friend, her thumb tapping against the journal loosely. “I mean, isn’t that to be expected? I lost one of my parents.” </p><p>“Well, yes. We all retreat into ourselves when we lose someone.” Luna looked up from the bowtruckle in her hand, her gaze seeming to focus for a moment on Hermione. “But you do not seem as if you are quite as withdrawn when Malfoy is around you.”</p><p>“Luna, he barely even likes me,” Hermione rolled her eyes, and stood up to head indoors, but paused as Luna hummed one last time. </p><p>“I don’t think either of us really know what Malfoy’s thinking, Hermione.”</p><p>Hermione opened the door and ducked in, refusing to think about what Luna was implying on her wedding day.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Hermione leaned against the post holding the tent up, gazing out to the garden where the fairy lights twinkled in the dusky evening. Her heart felt so full, so happy. It was almost exactly the wedding she had hoped for and Molly Weasley had held everything together the way that only the Weasley matron was capable of doing. </p><p>But despite that, despite how whole she had felt for the first time in ages. There was still a hole inside of her. A hole where her mum should have been there for the night. Where her mum should have been the one that zipped her dress up earlier and handed her the something old to keep on herself, instead of having to explain the tradition to the wizarding women who had helped her get ready. </p><p>Her mum should have been the one that kept her focused and the anxiety from spiking as the time came closer. Been the one to hold her when she had wanted to cry because the replacement flowers were not quite right and they were not the calla lilies she had wanted, just like her mum’s. </p><p>Someone sidled up beside her and Hermione looked over to see Harry’s piercing green eyes staring back at her. She smiled at him and nudged him with her elbow. “What’s got you so serious, Mr. Potter?” </p><p>Harry shrugged, and turned so he was looking back in the tent where Ron and Neville were laughing over some story that George had them enthralled in. “Just wanted to check on you. I don’t think the bride is often supposed to be off in a corner by herself at her wedding, though.” </p><p>Hermione sighed and turned so she was looking inside the tent. “I’m fine, Harry. You and Ron don’t need to keep checking on me. I just … every time I feel so happy and complete tonight, I keep finding myself thinking that my mum should have been here for this. She … she should have been here.” Hermione crossed her arms and grabbed her elbows, holding them tight to her body. “I know Molly is trying but … she’s just not my mum. I just need a few minutes to process it for myself every now and then, just like I told Ron five minutes ago.” </p><p>An arm wrapped around her shoulders and she allowed Harry to tuck her into the crook of his shoulder. For a minute, neither of them said anything as they watched their friends enjoying the party and making fools of themselves. After a time, Ron bounded over to them with that goofy grin on his face that made Hermione giddy inside and she felt a smile grace her face as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. </p><p>“The Golden Trio, all grown up and married now,” the laughter in his tone was infectious and Hermione found herself rolling her eyes as Harry pulled back and allowed Ron to tuck her into his side instead. “Who would have ever thought we would actually get to be this happy.” </p><p>Harry’s laughter died off and he glanced down at Hermione, who shrugged absently in Ron’s grasp. Ron’s grip on her side tightened infimatesly and Hermione looked up to see a sad smile on Ron’s face. </p><p>“I wish your mum could have been here, ‘Mione.” Ron’s other hand reached up and wiped away a tear that Hermione had not realized was tracking down her cheek. Bringing her hand up to her face, she dashed away a few others that were sitting at the edge of her eye. “I know how much it would have meant to you.” </p><p>Hermione reached up and pulled Ron’s face down to her own and pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss. Leaning her forehead against his, she sighed and felt Ron pressing his lips to her nose which she scrunched. </p><p>“It doesn’t do to dwell on what should have been or could have been,” Hermione’s voice was soft and she pulled back to look into Ron’s eyes. “I would have loved my mum to be here, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I kept thinking about all the things she should have been doing … but it’s our future, Ron. We move forward together. Just a little bit more baggage than before.” </p><p>Ron smiled down at her and stepped towards the dance floor before reaching his hand back for hers. With a laugh at his dramatics, Hermione placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her forward. </p><p>“Then I insist on a dance with my brilliant wife.” </p><p>Hermione felt her swell and felt the peace radiating throughout her body at the comment, grinning up at her husband as she followed him to the dance floor. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 5</b>
</p><p>
  <em> I fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case </em>
</p><p>
  <em> John says he'd drive then put his hand on my cheek </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And wiped a tear from the side of my face </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b></em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>December 11, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Molly was incorrigible today.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She kept asking me when I was going to get down to the Ministry office to change my last name. Just like she has ever since the wedding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I finally snipped at her about how I didn’t need to change my last name to adhere to some antiquated patriarchal need for control. I don’t know where these flashes of anger are coming from. I know I’ve always … been quick to anger, but it's a new level.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I miss you, mum. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>December 22, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione sat at her desk and stared at the paper in front of her with a frown on her face. Her focus had been gone for the last several hours and all she really wanted to do was go home and curl up on her couch with a cuppa and a book, pretending that the next several days <em> weren’t </em> going to be hard and painful. </p><p>She needed a vacation, that was what she really needed. </p><p>A knock on the door started her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see Malfoy leaning against the open door, ankles crossed as he looked at her with his brows raised. </p><p>“Figured you’d be long gone by now,” Hermione frowned and looked at the clock. “Did you have to meet with Harry?” </p><p>“Yeah, they needed help with some object they found during the Selwyn raid.” </p><p>Hermione hummed and looked back down at the paper in front of her, realizing she hadn’t actually processed anything on the memo she had gotten earlier, quickly finding her thoughts distracted again before Malfoy cleared his throat. Her eyes snapped up and she felt a flush come over. </p><p>“Sorry, it’s just-”</p><p>“I know,” Malfoy’s voice was soft and he was looking at the ground in front of him. </p><p>Neither of them said anything and Hermione finally sighed, standing up and stretching a kink in her back. With a wave of her wand, everything sorted itself into the appropriate drawer and she grabbed her coat before stopping in front of Malfoy. </p><p>“I’ll walk out with you?” </p><p>Malfoy nodded, but didn’t move from his perch against the door as he looked down at her. Hermione tried not to shift from foot to foot and Malfoy finally shook his head, turning slightly but hesitating still. </p><p>“You’ll feel a bit like someone is cutting your heart out of your ribs. It’ll be hard,” His eyes were shuttered, but Hermione thought she saw pain fluttering across them. “But you’ll make it. Even if you think you won’t.”</p><p>His grey eyes turned to look back at her and she frowned at the ground. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>December 24, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Dad tried to convince me to continue the annual gingerbread house competition. But I just couldn’t, mum.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who was going to tease dad when his fell apart? Or Ron when he ate half of his before finishing?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who would I giggle with over a glass of wine as the two of them bickered?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everything hurts. I feel like I’m going to implode. There’s just so much pain, so much itching under the surface and I don’t know how to release it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Will I ever stop being broken? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>December 25, 2004</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione held the apple cider between her hands, letting the warmth steam up over her face as she stood under the trees and watched everyone up on their brooms in the annual Christmas snitch fest - all to see who could catch the most snitches in the set period before they would go in for dinner. She laughed as Ginny slammed up against Harry and caused him to veer off path, cursing her as he stopped the broom before the edge of the clearing above her. </p><p>“You seem to be letting your wife have her way, Harry.” Harry scowled down at her and stuck his tongue out before he shot back out into the fray. </p><p>Gabrielle stepped up beside Hermione and shielded her face as she looked up to where everyone was flying around. “It’s a bit of an odd tradition, isn’t it?” </p><p>Hermione smiled and nodded before she took a drag from the apple cider. “It is, but if it’s what gives them pleasure...I’ll just be happy if no one ends up with any broken limbs.” </p><p>The blonde’s laughter echoed through-out the clearing and Hermione let herself join in. After a moment, Gabrielle looked over at Hermione with a sad smile on her face. “I am glad to see you smile again, Hermonny.” </p><p>Hermione felt her smile slip a little bit, and she shrugged. Gabrielle’s arm snaked around Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her into her arms. “I did not mean to make you sad.” </p><p>Hermione shrugged but let Gabrielle hold her close. “You didn’t, Gabrielle. I know you mean well. It’s just … the first Christmas without her, you know?” Gabrielle nodded knowingly and kept Hermione wrapped in her arms. </p><p>The two of them watched the remainder of the game in silence and at some point, Fleur had come out to look up as well, but left the two of them alone. After a time, Charlie caught the final snitch, putting him one ahead of Harry, and several protesting cries went up as the clan circled around Charlie as they all came down. </p><p>Bill loped over to where Hermione stood with Gabrielle and Fleur, leading Fleur away and Gabrielle kissed her cheek as she pulled off after them, leaving Hermione smiling up at Ron who had been right behind Bill. </p><p>Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “One of these days, one of you is going to break something.” Hermione scrunched her nose up and leaned back from Ron, but letting him keep his arms wrapped around her. “Also, you smell. How do you smell after a 15 minute game of catch the snitch?” </p><p>The redhead dramatically placed a hand over his heart and staggered back as if Hermione had shot him. “Is that anyway to speak to your husband?” </p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, taking another drink from her hot cider. Ron’s arm was tossed around her shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Before long, they had walked into the kitchen where her existing mug was promptly taken from her and replaced with a fresh steaming mug of apple cider. Hermione smiled gratefully at Molly and followed everyone else into the living room, where she veered away to join her dad on the couch. </p><p>“One day you’ll have to brave the cold to watch catch the snitch with me so you can see the kind of heartache they all put me through as I wait for one of them to break a limb.” David laughed and Hermione laid her head against his shoulder, her dad wrapping her hand in one of his own. The two of them watched the bustle of the family and Hermione smiled as Teddy and Victoire barreled through the room, George chasing them with something from the shop. </p><p>David sighed and Hermione leaned back some to look up at her dad, who was smiling down at her with a sad look in his eyes. “I know, dad.” Hermione hazarded a half-smile up at her dad. “Mum should be here.” </p><p>“She should. But life goes on,” he smiled at her and anything that Hermione might have answered with was distracted as Ron plopped down on the floor in front of her legs, giving her knee a squeeze as he settled down. </p><p>Within moments, the entire family had settled down into the living room and within moments, Teddy and Victoire were playing Santa’s elves and delivering everyone their presents. Hermione opened the annual sweater and ran her fingers down the blue fabric. </p><p>But her heart twinged a little with the missing weight of what wasn’t there. But no one other than her dad seemed to notice as he squeezed her hand. </p><p>The note in her pocket she’d received earlier that day seemed to burn even more. The elegant lines. No signature, but she knew. </p><p>
  <em> Chin up today, Granger. Happy Christmas. And try to eat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>January 1, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I cried last night when the new year rang in. I couldn’t stand to let Ron kiss me.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because how can I celebrate a new year when it means it’s a year without my mum? A year where I will never have her hug me, or kiss my cheek, or laugh when I get so animated about a book that I trip over words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There’s nothing to celebrate there. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sometimes I think it’d be easier to just let everything break. It hurts too much trying to fill in the holes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>January 5, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Malfoy and I made a break-through today on the riddle. It was a fucking preserved lily that had been stored in Arcturus Black’s crypt. It took a bit more to track down after Malfoy figured out it was the Black family, even with the luck between him and Harry’s inheritance from Sirius and our access to everything.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And maybe one or two threats to Kreacher.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All we had to do was destroy the lily - and that part of the magic is gone. Now all we have to do is prepare the case for the Wizengamot. We’ve been given a date in March - we’ll get an exact date later on.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was so exciting, I forgot. After we destroyed the lily, I turned to Malfoy and said “oh, my mum is going to be so proud when I tell her.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was only at the look of pity he gave me that I realized what I said. I’ve never seen Malfoy give a look of pity, and I’m not sure I liked that it was for me.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I cried a lot, after. He handles it better than Ron, but I think that’s just because he’s been there with his own mother and Astoria … but he didn’t leave me alone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Harry didn’t say anything when we came up from the crypt about the tears on my face.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>January 29, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione stared at the photo in her hands and touched her fingers to her mother’s face softly, tears tracking down her cheeks as her chest ached and her ribs felt like they were going to just split at the slightest pressure. </p><p>She had been more or less fine since her and Malfoy had solved the riddle. </p><p>But if it hadn’t hit her in the face like a bludger that morning when she woke up. There was no identifiable cause for it. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The last few weeks had been the same. She went to work, would work with Malfoy on their arguments, he’d leave to do whatever Malfoy did and she would keep working on the other legislative pieces she had in front of her. Her and Ron had stayed home last night and watched Ella Enchanted, with Ron scoffing at all of the magic and her laughing at him. </p><p>And when she had woken up this morning, it felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest and her ribs were cracking and that void, oh that void was spreading and leaking and everything was wrong. She’d called her dad, but he had been excited about getting lunch with a friend and she hadn’t wanted to bring him down, bring him down to the level of pain she was in. </p><p>Suddenly, Ron was kneeling down in front of her and pulling the frame out of her fingers softly, keeping his hand wrapped around her. Blinking, she noticed that the room was red from the setting sun and she was not sure where the day had gone. </p><p>“What can I get you, Hermione?” Ron’s voice was soft and Hermione blinked at him like an owl. “What can I do for you?” </p><p>Hermione pulled her hands out of Ron’s and curled up on her side on the bed. </p><p>“Nothing. I don’t <em> need </em> or <em> want </em> anything.”</p><p>Her voice was a void, but she couldn’t be bothered to care that the void was leaking out into their apartment. That Ron would hear it. Because she could not find it in her to care if he saw how broken she was, because she knew he wouldn’t do anything about it. </p><p>She felt Ron hover for a few more minutes, but then his presence was gone and the door snapped closed. Hermione curled into a ball and wrapped her arms around her ribcage. </p><p>And she cried. For the mum that she lost, for the relationship that she felt was spiraling, for everything that felt out of control. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>February 16, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>“That is <em> not </em>going to appeal to anyone on the Wizengamot, Granger.” </p><p>Hermione’s nostrils flared and her quill tapped the table in a repeated pattern. “It’s the logical argument for the situation.” His grey eyes challenged her and she felt her chin tilt up. “If they say that the argument is not valid, they all but admit they are nothing more than a bunch of old racist-”</p><p>“Yes, and they are also the same men who let <em> him </em> wreck havoc not once, but <em> twice </em>.” </p><p>Before she could respond, the door to Hermione’s office opened and she looked over to see Harry standing in the doorway, looking at her and Malfoy with his own brows creased. Looking back to Malfoy, she realized how close their heads were over her table and she found herself reclining back into her seat abruptly, hands busy shuffling papers on her desk. </p><p>“Harry. What brings you here?” She clipped, refusing to acknowledge the look that Malfoy was giving her over the desk. </p><p>Harry leaned across the wall and crossed his shoulders. “That would be the lunch we were supposed to get today. I hadn’t realized that you guys would be meeting during this time?” </p><p>Hermione looked at the clock with a soft <em> oh </em> and scrambled around the papers on her desk for her calendar. “I’m so sorry Harry. I completely lost track and I just…” she trailed off and looked at Malfoy who was watching her scramble in front of him with what she would swear was amusement on his features. </p><p>Malfoy unfolded himself from the chair he had been in, snagging some of his papers from the piles on Hermione’s desk before she could shuffle them off into her drawer, and putting them in the bag he carried. </p><p>“We can continue on tomorrow,” Malfoy turned and nodded at Harry. “Potter. I’ll see you this afternoon.” </p><p>He started to take steps out of the office but at the last minute Harry grabbed his arm to stop him from exiting the office. Hermione found herself holding her breath as Harry’s eyes darted between her and Malfoy. </p><p>“Join us.” </p><p>Harry’s face seemed to be surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth and Malfoy looked back at him and raised one eyebrow at him. Harry quickly let go of Malfoy’s arm, putting his hand in his pocket and looking at Hermione briefly, who had paused halfway out of her seat. </p><p>“We’re meeting this afternoon, there’s no reason for you to just … do whatever it is when you aren’t here.” Harry’s eyebrows creased and he ran a hand through his hair. “What do you even do when you aren’t helping one of us.” </p><p>“Scheme.” </p><p>Malfoy’s voice was empty and Hermione noticed that everything about him had shuttered. Her hand twitched and knocked over the ink pot that had been sitting on her desk. With a muttered <em> shite </em>, she lifted papers looking for her wand but heard Malfoy’s muttered voice before the ink disappeared. Hermione’s eyes lifted and darted across Malfoy’s face as he stared at her, not a thought betrayed on his face. </p><p>“I suppose.” Malfoy’s fingers drummed once against his thigh. “But we aren’t going to grace whatever hovel the two of you were likely going to visit.”</p><p>“You mean the Ministry cafeteria isn’t up to your standards? I’m hurt, Malfoy.” Harry placed a hand over his heart in mock anger and Malfoy’s lips twitched before he muttered about waiting for them in the hallway. </p><p>Hermione finally stood up all the way, coming around her desk and grabbing her wand that was peaking out of some papers before stopping before Harry. </p><p>“What’re you playing at, Harry?” </p><p>His green eyes were guarded as he looked over her. He looked over his shoulder where Malfoy could be seen, leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed, and looked back at Hermione. </p><p>“I think the better question is what're you playing at, Hermione.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> —— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>March 6, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione sat at the kitchen table, her cuppa steaming into her face and her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Ron bustled from the bedroom, pulling the jumper over his head and pausing when he saw her sitting there in her robe. </p><p>“‘Mione, we have to leave soon to get there in time for lunch,” he took a step forward and put his hand on her shoulder, frowning as he felt her tense under him.</p><p>Eyes dropping to the cuppa, she shook his hand off before sliding out of the chair to the side, hands trembling as she picked up the journal from where she had set it to the side after writing. </p><p>“I’m not going, Ron. I told you.” </p><p>“Oh, come on. It’ll be a good break from the house. And even Charlie is coming and he’s brin-” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>The two of them stood there for some time, both eyeing the other warily, and Hermione started twisting the ring on her finger, trying to ignore the burning that she knew was just in her mind. </p><p>“Fine. I’ll let you be.” Ron took a step forward and pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. “I wish you’d tell me what to do to help.” </p><p>“There’s nothing to do, Ron. I just … I can’t today. Go celebrate with Molly and the rest.” Hermione pulled back and gave him a sad smile. “I’ll probably go to my dad’s this afternoon and spend the day with him.”</p><p>Ron nodded hesitantly but pressed a soft kiss to her lips. The fluorescents flickered as he disappeared and Hermione stayed where she was, tears tracking down her face and the void crept ever farther to the edge of her body. Because she could not today, today was to be celebrated with mothers who were there and listened and …</p><p><em> Hoot </em>. </p><p>With a shake of the head, Hermione turned down the hallway to the bedroom and paused at the elegant owl that was sitting on the perch, Pig nowhere to be seen. Grabbing a treat from the dish, she stepped forward and the owl stuck out his leg, impatiently eyeing the treat in her hand.</p><p>Hermione allowed the owl to take the treat and untied the package from its leg, petting the preening owl who hooted softly. “Yes, you’re very handsome as always.” She murmured as she absently turned the package around in her hand, turning to sit on the bed as the owl took off through the enchantments and pulling out the parchment rolled up in the twine.</p><p>
  <em> Granger  -  </em>
</p><p> <em>  I won’t mince my words. Today will be hard. It still is for me. Just … don’t forget to eat. Even if it’s only the chocolate scone. </em></p><p>
  <em> DLM </em>
</p><p>Hermione pulled the twin off and pulled the lid off, not noticing the ghost of the smile that stole over her face as she looked down at another chocolate scone from The White Rabbit. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 6</b>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A life with love is a life that's been lived </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b></em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>March 16, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione read the sheet of paper in her hands one more time, barely daring to believe the words on the page in front of her. She heard voices muttering outside the door - Caroline trying to stop someone - and then the door was banging open and she looked up to see Malfoy standing there. His grey eyes zeroed on in the paper in her hands and then flicked up to her face. </p><p>“They weren’t supposed to vote until next week.” </p><p>She nodded absently and looked back down at the paper, “That’s true.” Hermione looked back up and opened her mouth to speak, but paused when she realized how close Malfoy was now standing. Clearing her throat, she nodded before looking up to his face again. “But it doesn’t matter.” </p><p>Malfoy’s face fell for the brief second before his mask slipped back onto his face and Hermione thrust the letter into his hand, watching his face as he read the beginning of the letter and the light that entered his eyes as he continued to read. </p><p>“They … overturned it. Without hearing our arguments,” Hermione breathed, unable to help the smile that had creeped onto her face. “They held a secret vote to see if it’d be overturned without the arguments, and when it was, they decided to make it official.” </p><p>His eyes darted across the letter several more times and then slowly raised to Hermione’s, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the unadulterated happiness that was radiating from his own eyes, a smile she had never seen before on him stretched across his face. </p><p>Hermione’s heart gave a dull throb in the void that was her before Malfoy had taken a step forward and wrapped his arms around her and she heard what sounded suspiciously like sobs being buried in her hair. Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around him, rubbing a soothing hand along his back. After several minutes, Malfoy had pulled back and his face was mostly schooled to be blank. </p><p>“Apologies, Granger.” He pulled at his jacket and cleared his throat. “I … that wasn’t appropriate.”</p><p>“Malfoy,” she hesitated, her thumbs tapping an anxious rhythm at her thigh. “Does … this have something to do with Astoria?” </p><p>Instantly, the mask slipped from his face again and Hermione watched the pain that flitted across there. She reached out to take his arm and led him to one of the seats at her desk, pushing him down and sitting in the seat next to him, keeping a grip on his arm as he battled internally, staring at the floor. </p><p>After several minutes and a decision to go get them cuppas to sip, Hermione made to stand but his hand darted out to grab her forearm and she settled back into her seat as he looked back to her.</p><p>“The … the one thing she had always asked me to do, but had never been able to give her, was … this,” the hand holding the letter tightly clenched slightly. “But never for her, always for others. Granger, she was just <em> so good </em>,” his voice broke for a second but he kept his eyes trained on her own. “Daphne … had an affair with a muggle, after our eight year back at Hogwarts. They actually ran off, but he … there was a car accident. Daphne was unconscious, so she couldn’t use her magic and the hospital, they couldn’t save him.”</p><p>Hermione placed her other hand over his and rubbed soothing circles across the back while he took a breath. “Daphne came back to her parents, because where else could she go? Several months later, her and Pansy took a four month jaunt off around the world and by the time she got back, her parents had worked out her marriage contract with Flint,” Malfoy sneered at this, his hand tightening slightly on Hermione’s arm. “But there was nothing to be done. Astoria was still in school, her parents did what they wanted to.”</p><p>Malfoy looked back at the ground, the letter crumbled to a ball in his hand as Hermione continued to rub soothing patterns. “I found out when - when Astoria was pregnant. Daphne had given birth when her and Pansy were abroad, named him Daniel after his father, and they had squirreled the child away with one of Blaise’s distant relatives in Italy. I promised her I would find a way for Daphne’s son to inherit what should be his as the eldest Greengrass heir, especially as Daphne has been hesitant to … have any children with Flint. And he didn’t know about Daniel.” Malfoy swallowed and looked back up to Hermione. “Close to the end, when the Healers were saying that Astoria might not survive but they thought she’d make it to the end of the pregnancy … I promised Astoria I’d find a way to protect him. It was the only thing she had asked me in the end. To protect Daniel and … protect our child when it was born.” </p><p>Malfoy’s voice broke again and he suddenly stood from the chair and turned away from Hermione, his hands hovering around his face. Hermione leaned back in her seat, letting him have his moment to collect himself. Knowing how much it had taken for him to even tell her this much. She pulled across some of the files on her desk and started flipping through the files.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hermione looked up at that and saw that Malfoy had collected himself and smoothed the letter on his desk. “Thank you for letting me help to fulfill my last promise to her.” </p><p>Hermione stood up, setting the files in her hands back on the desk. “Of course, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Draco.” </p><p>Hermione arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. </p><p>“I … please call me Draco, Hermione,”  and he stuck his hand out to her. </p><p>Hermione stared at his hand for a moment before gingerly grabbing it with her own, giving it a shake. </p><p>“Of course, Draco.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>March 20, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ve found myself wondering if I made the right decision, last fall. Should I have married Ron? I don’t … I find myself not caring about what he gets excited about anymore. It’s almost always Quidditch and I just can’t be excited.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That’s not how a marriage should be.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is it just because my mum died? Is it something that we were barrelling to the whole time?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I feel overwhelmed. Always. I miss feeling butterflies. I miss being excited to see that one person at the end of the day.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not that I haven’t had hints of those thoughts … but they’ve not been for Ron.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I wish I could talk to you, mum. I wish I could talk to you and have you support me no matter how painful the choice is.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I miss having someone who supported me always.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>April 9, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione laughed at the face Ginny was making at Ron and took a sip from her butterbeer, exchanging a look with Harry over the absurdity of the whole thing. One of the worst, or best things, they had ever done was introducing their wizarding friends to charades. The Weasley spirit for competitiveness carried into all aspects of their life and the two of them often ended up having a show down before the night was over, with everyone else watching on in amusement. </p><p>Neville was seated on the seat opposite of them with Hannah curled up into his side as the two of them whispered to one another, Luna was off in the corner with Rolf Scamander, who she had met on her travels and the two of them often seemed to be in a world of their own when they were back in London and visiting. </p><p>Ginny and Ron continued bickering over whether the noise Ron had made constituted speaking for purposes of the game and Harry relocated from his side of the couch to sit next to Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. </p><p>“The two of them really are ridiculous,” his voice was laced with amusement, his green eyes sparkling and Hermione nodded in agreement, taking the last drink from her butterbeer. </p><p>Harry took the glass from her and set it on the side table and she settled back into the couch, grousing as Harry’s hand rubbed her hair in a way she knew had caused it to grow three times the size, but she did not pull away. </p><p>“Just because you married the smart one doesn’t mean you get to squirm your way around the rules of the game, Ronald.” Ginny’s voice was piercing and Hermione let out a startled bark of laughter. Ginny looked over and narrowed her eyes at the two of them. “Look, you’ve pushed our spouses into each other's arms in their anguish over your childish behavior.” </p><p>Ron’s blue eyes snapped to Hermione and Harry and Hermione found herself pulling back from Harry a bit as his eyes narrowed. Ron threw his hands up in the air and stalked out of the room. Ginny and Harry awkwardly stayed still and Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “He feels as if I don’t talk to him enough. He’s been making comments that I talk to Harry more than him.” </p><p>“He’s being a brat,” Ginny looked her over before looking at Harry. “You deal with her. I’ll deal with the insufferable brat that is my brother.” Ginny ducked out of the room and Hermione watched as Neville and Hannah silently left their seats to go stand with Luna and Rolf at the window, giving her and Harry some space. </p><p>Hermione looked down at the ground, worrying at the bed of her nail. She felt Harry’s eyes lingering on her and she sighed, looking towards him. </p><p>“Does he know?” Harry’s voice was soft, mindful of the others in the room. </p><p>Hermione leveled her gaze at him. “Know what, Harry?” </p><p>“That you are friends with Malfoy.” </p><p>Hermione looked up to the ceiling and closed her eyes. “We aren’t friends, Harry. We’re working together at work and he listens to me when … when everything is too much.” </p><p>“Sounds awful like something a boyfriend would do, Hermione. Sounds exactly like what Ron wants you to do with him.” </p><p>Exasperated, Hermione stood up from the couch and crossed her arms before turning on Harry. “Just because someone lost his own <em> wife </em> and <em> mother </em> recently and has the compassion to … to listen to me and understand in a way no one else can doesn’t mean that there’s anything else.” Hermione gestured through the door that Ron and Ginny had gone through. “I’m recently married. He is aware of that. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing for me to tell Ron.”</p><p>Harry’s eyebrows rose on his face. “Right. Because the man who cannot even stand to see you talking to <em> me </em> is going to be fine with you being chummy with someone he’s hated since he knew how.”</p><p>“He’s just someone that is there for me emotionally in a way that no one else can be because he has been there, Harry. Nothing else. Ron knows we’ve been working together on the legislation at work, there’s nothing else.” </p><p>Harry shrugged his shoulders before standing up himself. “Suit yourself. He’s going to blow a gasket.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>April 22, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I found an inscription on the back of the journal I hadn’t noticed before.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think I know who gave me this journal.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 2, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione found herself frowning at Ron as he tossed back the last remnants of what had to be his third firewhiskey of the night, the first of which he had promptly finished when she told him for the third time that <em> no, she did not want to dance </em> and <em> yes, she was very sure </em>. Ginny and Luna were tittering about something and she found that her nerves were very on edge from the past few hours. </p><p>She loved her friends. But there were just times when it all strained on her. Harry had seemed a bit out of it that night as well, as Hermione had caught him frowning at Ron more than once when he would start muttering about the Slytherins that had been in attendance. </p><p>The Slytherins that Hermione had found herself very aware of, even though she did not want to be. </p><p>She tossed back the rest of her butterbeer and with a murmured excuse that no one seemed to notice, Hermione stood from the table and headed to the bar. Leaning against the counter and ordering a firewhiskey, she shifted on her feet wishing she had not let Luna and Ginny convince her to wear heels. Or that she had cast a better cushioning charm. </p><p>The bartender set the firewhiskey down in front of her and she took a deep pull from the glass, closing her eyes and relishing the burn. Absorbed in the taste and feel of the drink, she did not notice as someone sidled up next to her at the bar, until they spoke. </p><p>“Granger.”</p><p>Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head sharply, some of the firewhiskey sloshing on her hand as she set the glass down abruptly, meeting his grey eyes across the space. For a moment, neither of them said anything but studied the other before she arched her eyebrow. </p><p>“I thought we had moved past the last names.” </p><p>He shrugged carelessly, setting his own empty glass down against the bar and Hermione noticed that everyone who had been pressed around the bar before had backed off. </p><p>“There’s an awful lot of ears around tonight. A few glaring eyes as well,” his eyes drifted down the bar where people were openly staring at the two of them. “And because I am a Slytherin with a modicum of self-preservation, it seemed appropriate that I shouldn’t anger the masses too much when I planned to ask you for a dance.” </p><p>Hermione eyed him for a moment, shifting a bit as she looked back to the table with her friends - it seemed as if no one had even noticed her absence. And it would only be polite to accept. Reaching back for her firewhiskey she tipped it back with a swallow, noting the amused crinkle of Draco’s eyes as she set it back and held out her hand. </p><p>“Lead the way.” </p><p>Draco took her hand in his and led her out to the dance floor, the band striking up another waltz as they took their places. Hermione took a calming breath as his hand wrapped around her back, the tops of his fingers just grazing the skin of her lower back over the top of the dress, and was inundated with the smell of his cologne. For several seconds, neither said anything as he led them around the floor and Hermione tried to shake the woozy feeling that had overtaken her. </p><p>“Your friends have all the tact of a bludger,” Hermione looked up to see him staring at something over her shoulder. “Given, everyone here tonight seems to have forgotten what tact is at this moment in time.” </p><p>Hermione looked around then and noted that more than one table seemed to have caught sight of them on the dance floor and were openly staring and pointing. She felt Draco tense up under her hand before he turned her just enough so that she could see her table of friends, where Harry was staring out at her with a look that knew too much. She sniffed, but looked away, not quite letting her head rest on Draco’s chest, his cologne swirling around her. </p><p>She wanted to tell him that she did not feel any shame at being seen with him, but that seemed to be straying a path she could not go down. </p><p>“I’ll have to remind Rita who she’s dealing with tonight, I suppose.” </p><p>Draco continued to spin them around the floor, but neither of them said anything for the remaining moments of the song. At the end of the song, Draco took a step and bowed over her hand, hesitating for a moment before he let her hand drop away from him. </p><p>“I’m afraid I’ve complicated your night though,” his voice was soft and Hermione turned as she heard steps come up behind her, seeing Ron striding towards her with a hard look on his face, and Harry a few steps behind him. </p><p>“Can I talk to you?” </p><p>Ron’s voice was clipped and Hermione found herself glancing at Malfoy, whose eyes were looking over Ron with contempt as he sneered before he turned his grey eyes to her with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>“Without. Malfoy.” Ron bit out, but held his hand out for her, his eyes hard on Malfoy’s face. </p><p>Hermione swallowed, resisting the urge to look at Harry over Ron’s shoulder and lightly placed her hand in Ron’s before he took off for the side of the dance floor, behind one of the columns where there were fewer prying eyes. As soon as they were partially hidden, he dropped her hand as if she had scalded him.</p><p>“What,” he breathed heavily, “are you doing dancing with <em> him </em>?”  Ron sputtered for a second before he took a step forward into Hermione’s personal space. “He was a Death Eater, Hermione,” he hissed, his attempts at keeping his voice quiet wildly unsuccessful as a result of the firewhiskey he had consumed. “You can’t consort with him on today of all days.” </p><p>“I am perfectly capable of dancing with whomever I want on this day. That was the entire point of the war, you know.” </p><p>“Oh, and the person you want to dance with is him? After you've been telling me all night you did't want to dance?”</p><p>Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Draco, whose eyes had shuttered and a sneer graced his face as he looked at Harry who was standing next to him still. She turned back to Ron and put her hand on her hip, trying to tamp down on the emotions spitting through her. </p><p>“I was dancing with a friend, Ronald. You had no issue when I danced with Harry earlier, though, so surely I’m not certain what this reaction is about.” </p><p>“Yeah. You danced with Harry, too.” Ron’s voice was quiet and he turned on his foot and stalked to the door. Seconds later, Harry hurried out after him, shooting Hermione a look that promised they would be talking. Hermione twisted the ring on her hand absently, before turning back to the dance floor and pausing in front of Draco, who seemed to have turned into a statue. </p><p>“I am sorry for that childish behavior,” she breathed through her nose and Draco’s eyes dropped to her own but no emotion flitted across his face. “I will need to take my leave, but I will see you at our meeting next Monday.” </p><p>Draco nodded once as she felt someone grab her elbow and she turned to see Ginny, who was pulling her off the dance floor. </p><p>“What the hell is going on, Hermione.” Ginny’s voice was quiet and Hermione looked at the floor, refusing to look at the gaping faces around her. “You told us that he was just a <em> friend </em>.” Her voice was harsh on the last word and Hermione’s eyes snapped up to Ginny’s. </p><p>But she did not know what to say. </p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 5, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I should have listened to Harry. Ron still hasn’t spoken to me since last night.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I can’t help but be frustrated by it, though. Just like Harry can be there for me in a way that Ron can’t be, Draco is there for me in a way that Ron and Harry can’t be. Because he has been through this - twice. Really, three times when you consider Astoria lost the baby at her death as well.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Am I so undesirable as a human that Ron can’t imagine someone being there for me? Am I so broken, between the war and my mum’s death?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Am I broken because I can imagine someone else being there for me in a way my husband isn’t? That I can imagine him …  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I wish she was here for me to talk to.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 9, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Draco was overly formal at work today. It was like we were back in September again. He wouldn’t say anything but he had overstepped.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Harry cornered me last night asking why Draco had looked at me in a way that Ron didn’t even look at me.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t know what to say. I feel like the void in my chest is just spreading and overtaking my body again and I’m just stuck here and I can’t escape.   </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 13, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I woke up last night from a dream where I had to bury you over and over, mum. I couldn’t stop crying. Ron patted my shoulder before leaving to work.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t receive any note today like I have every other day I’ve missed. I ended up going to dad’s and he could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t know how to talk to him about it. We’ve never had that relationship. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What do I do, mum?  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 20, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I feel so lonely. I hadn’t felt like this in so long. Ron is there every day, asking what I need.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>May 31, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> Someone spilled amortentia at work today. I still smelled freshly mowed grass, parchment, and spearmint toothpaste.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fourth smell wasn’t Ron’s hair anymore.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think it has to end. God, I wish you were here mum. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job.</p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing.</p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Splintered</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>by cassielassie</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 7</b>
</p><p>
  <em> You were an angel in the shape of my mum </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You got to see the person I have become </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Spread your wings</em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You're home </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>HP UHEA Prompt: Ron/Hermione | Given the opportunity, would she go back and change it all?<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I don't own the characters, only the plot.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>This story would absolutely not have been possible without RonsGirlFriday - she helped me develop scenes and with Ron's characterization in ways I can never thank her for. Thank you for putting up with my rambles and constant questions over the last few weeks.</b></em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>June 1, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione sat at the kitchen table and absently turned through the pages of the journal, thumbing through some of the entries over the last few months. Her brow furrowed as she noted the entries where she seemed more hopeful, more of the girl burning with a fire that she used to be. </p><p>And noting that Ron was not the common factor in any of those entries. Noting when it seemed to start flaring. </p><p>She thought back to the moments of loneliness that had flared in the past few months and how anytime she brought it up to Ron - how if she mentioned that she missed her mum with no abandon and that cavern in her soul felt like it would never really be full - that he just looked to her to give him direction on how to help her or said that with time, it would be better. </p><p>How he never offered to let her talk about it. When he caught her crying, he never just … let her cry. It was always buck up, be happy, your mum would want you to be happy. Somehow always ended up talking about him again. Maybe he thought it would distract her from the pain, but it never really did. It just caused the void to scream louder.</p><p>Flipping to the last page of the journal, she thumbed the inscription that she had not noticed for several months. That she had never shown Ron, and shouldn’t she have wanted to share something like that with him? </p><p><em> A heart that's been broke is a heart that's been loved </em>.</p><p>The inscription had been her clue. She knew who had sent her the journal. Who had provided her the one solace in the last year as she dealt with everything. But she could not let herself think about that path. Not just yet. </p><p>The floo flared to life and Hermione remained at the kitchen table, closing the journal softly but staring at it. Ron came around the corner and paused at the sight of her sitting in the near dark. </p><p>“Everything okay, ‘Mione?” His voice was hesitant and Hermione took the moment to look him over. She wondered when the butterflies had disappeared. Had it been after her mum died? She thought she had felt them at the wedding, but was it just because … it was a wedding? Had this relationship been something that was doomed from the beginning and neither of them had wanted to see? It wasn’t that she did not feel happiness when he smiled, she did. But it was not the happiness she once felt when he smiled. It was the same happiness she felt when Neville smiled. The same happiness she felt when Harry smiled. The happiness you feel for a friend that you love. </p><p>“No.” Her voice was soft and she tucked her hands into her lap, drumming her fingers on her thighs absently. “I can’t do this anymore, Ron.” </p><p>Ron’s eyebrows rose and he dropped the bag he had been carrying to the floor. “Do what? Go to dinner with the group tonight?” He smiled absently and shook his head. “We can order take-away, not a big deal. Maybe Harry and Ginny could be persuaded to join here instead?” </p><p>Hermione shook her head and stood up, holding the journal in her hand. </p><p>“Do you know what this journal is, Ron?” </p><p>He shook his head slowly. “No. It’s the one Harry gave you after your mum died, right?” </p><p>She hummed and came to the side of the kitchen table, setting the journal down and tapping it with her fingers. “Yes and no.” She splayed her hand out on top and kept her eyes on the journal. “It was given to me after she died, but not by Harry. But it’s more than that.” Hermione looked back up, catching the flash of confusion that flitted across Ron’s face. “It’s been the place I’ve written every heartache the last ten months, Ron. Every frustration. Noting when I feel … when I feel broken and empty. When I have felt full. When I was on a high of happiness or I was so sad I didn’t know how I was going to make it to the next day.</p><p>“It’s been where I have bared my soul day in and day out, feeling like no one was really seeing how broken I was. But don’t you think, as my husband, you should have done more than noticed those days? When I was barely functioning? When I was on autopilot?” </p><p>Hermione paused, feeling a flush creep up her neck as Ron just stared at her. </p><p>“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Hermione’s voice snapped and she slammed her first down on the table. “Why have I emotionally been carrying this by myself, Ron? Where was anybody? Why was my husband not there to hold me as I cried?”</p><p>Ron continued to stare at her before running a hand through his hair, his confusion obvious on his face. “Where was I? What do you mean, where was I? I’ve been … here, the whole time. I’ve been with you the entire time!” </p><p>“Yes, and you haven’t seen what’s been happening to me? You didn’t care” </p><p>“Didn’t care?!” A red flush was working its way up his neck and his cheeks were tinged pink. “I hate seeing you this way, you have to know that. I don’t want you to be sad all the time-”</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry to have been such an inconvenience to you,” Hermione snipped, crossing her arms. </p><p>“Don’t do you do that, don’t you go and twist my words! All I’ve <em> ever </em> wanted to do was make you feel better, but I never seem to know how. Every time I would ask - you’d say you were fine, every time I asked what I could do - you’d say nothing! It was always the same, you always acted like you wanted to be left alone!” Ron groaned, and ran his hand down his face. “My god, if you’d have asked me, I would have done anything-”</p><p>Hermione laughed, a pitiful sound that scorched her throat. “Are you serious? I never asked? What did you want, me to wear a fucking sign around my throat that said ‘<em>help I’m dying inside and I don’t want to die, I need to fix it and it feels like no one sees</em>?’ How was I supposed to know what I needed, Ron? My mum died! My mum!” Hermione’s voice broke, and she wiped at the tears on her face.”She was my best friend, Ron! Not you, not Harry. My mum was the person I went to for <em> everything </em>.” </p><p>Ron had started pacing in front of her, quiet mutters under his breath during her speech as he ran his hand through his hair. He finally paused in front of her again, arms hanging loosely at his side. </p><p>“I don’t know what else I could have done, Hermione. Tell me what I could have done that would have made a difference.” </p><p>“You could have just … held me when I was crying. Let me be sad, but be there for me. I shouldn’t have to be pouring my heart into a book because I can’t do it with you!” Hermione swiped her hand at the journal and it shot off against the wall with a thump before sliding down. “And - and the person who gave this to me, he somehow knew <em> exactly </em> what to do. You should have been the one doing it, but you weren’t! He checks in on me when I have missed work, he stays with me when I’m breaking down, and wants to know that I’m not collapsing back to where I never eat.” Hermione felt tears running down her face, and she dashed at them angrily. </p><p>Ron snorted and looked at the ceiling as if it would have the answers. “Oh, I suppose <em> he </em> knows you better than I do?”</p><p>“He does. He knows the version of me I am <em> now </em>. Not who I was in school or on the run. Hermione Granger with the dead mum.” </p><p>Ron took another step forward and crowded her personal space. “What do you want, Hermione? Do you just need to throw in my face now that you have some other guy that is there for you when I apparently failed at my job? I tried to get you to eat and all you ever did was bloody bring up that I had taken you from your mum! Every time I tried to put food in front of you or tell you that you needed to eat, it was all about your <em> autonomy </em> to decide what you did and when. You’re the Brightest Witch of the bloody age, why would I think you were lying to me?”</p><p>“The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility! Stop making this about you!” Hermione slammed her hands into his chest, pushing him out of her space, her chest heaving. “I am a human with emotions, no matter how smart I am, Ronald! I deserve to take up space and feel and have someone who is going to be there to take care of me <em> even when I’m not begging for help </em>!” A hysterical note entered her voice but Hermione found she could not be bothered to care. But seconds later, she felt herself deflate. “I’m not any better to you, Ron. I barely have heard half the things you’ve rattled about the last year. We both deserve to be with someone who can understand the other, without them speaking.” </p><p>Stepping around the kitchen table and out of the hand that Ron reached out, she picked up the journal where it had slid to the ground and smoothed her hand over it with a tremble. “I deserve to be taken care of, for once. To know when <em> I’m fine </em> doesn’t actually mean I‘m fine.” Hermione’s voice broke and she knew fresh tears were streaming down her face. “You deserve to have someone who cares enough to participate in your conversations instead of them being one sided.” </p><p>When she looked back up, Ron’s face was as red as his hair and looked like he was about to continue arguing with her. Hermione shook her head as he opened his mouth and picked up her beaded bag which had been on the table next to the front door. </p><p>“I can’t do this, Ron. I can’t … ” Her voice trailed off and she clutched the journal to her chest, dashing at the tears on her face again. “I want a divorce.”</p><p>Before Ron could say anything else, Hermione turned on the spot and apparated, looking around the street where she had landed absently, barely noticing the few people in the wizarding neighborhood who looked at her absently and taking in the tears on her face. </p><p>Clutching the journal to her chest like it was the only thing keeping her alive, Hermione took a few steps towards the townhome in front of her. She took the few steps up the stairs and paused at the door, finally lifting her hand and knocking. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and his cool grey eyes flitted over her face. </p><p>“Granger, what’s wrong?” Draco’s grey eyes finally settled on her own and Hermione noted the concern there before they shuttered. </p><p>She held the journal out between them, almost as a peace offering, and noticed his eyes flickered to it without any real surprise before flitting back to her face. Her eyes jumped across his face, taking in the slight frown of his lips and the small crease between his eyebrows.</p><p>“It was you.” Her voice was soft and Draco kept his lips closed. “Did you know no one else quite pushed me to eat as insistently as you did in the beginning?” Hermione cocked her head, but Draco’s face had fully shuttered and he had dropped his gaze to the floor. “I left him.” At that, his eyes shot back up, a number of emotions running across his face before he schooled his face again. </p><p>But she had caught one - hope. And when Draco Malfoy opened the door all the way and took a step back, Hermione Granger stepped into his home for the first time. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>June 2, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I took the rest of the week off from work. I stayed at Draco’s fairly late last night. Just talking. About everything. He told me more about Astoria. She did a number on him - I have no doubt he would not be the man he is today without her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I moved back in with dad. He did not seem as surprised as I would have expected. I imagine we’ll have a conversation about it in the coming days, but he seemed content to just let me be.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I haven’t cried as much as I thought I would. Ron hasn’t tried to contact me, which I expected. I hope … I hope we can still be friends again. Harry sent me a note. He wants to get a cuppa this afternoon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is it wrong that I feel so much relief, mum?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>June 5, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>Hermione smiled as she watched Draco skimming the table of contents for the new potions book she had gotten him for his birthday, his typical mask barely containing the glee as he looked through the new chapters. It had come as no surprise that potions had been his favorite topic in school, but it was exciting to have someone in her life who got as excited over a new book as she did. After a few more minutes, he closed the book and turned to look at her with a grateful smile. </p><p>“Thank you. I get the feeling Flourish &amp; Blotts might have fibbed to me earlier today when they told me the book was out of stock,” his eyebrow rose at that and Hermione flushed, glancing down at her lap and fiddled with her shirt hem as she tried to keep the smile off of her face. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just order take-away for dinner or I thought we could venture out somewhere in muggle London.” </p><p>At that, Hermione’s eyes snapped back up to Draco’s. His own eyes were trained on the book in his laps, as his fingers tapped out an absent rhythm on them that made her wonder if he also knew how to play the piano. </p><p>“I figured you were not looking to be seen out and about Wizarding London with me so soon after your conversation with Ron.” </p><p>Hermione nodded and looked back down at her shirt hem. “I don’t particularly care, but I imagine it’s for the best for now.” She looked back up at Draco and caught the frown that creased his face for a moment. “But, you know - surely - I’m not ashamed of being seen with you, right?” Draco nodded sharply, and she sighed. “I’m not. I just - if you knew how Molly had treated me just in fourth year when the rumors about Krum and Harry were going around,” Hermione flipped her hand absently in the air. “It’s just not worth it when I’m sure she’s already pretty angry at me.” </p><p>Draco set the book to the side of his couch and stood, holding his hand out for Hermione who took it and stood up after him. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Hermione.” His voice was soft, but he gave her hand a squeeze before he let go and stepped towards the front door. </p><p>Hermione followed after him, thinking of where she wanted to take Draco for dinner that would not require a reservation to get in at the last minute, lost in thought as she stepped forward and let Draco place the coat over her arms and handed her the purse she had dropped on the side table. </p><p>“There is one request I have. Since it is my birthday and all,” Hermione looked back up to see his grey eyes dancing and she narrowed her eyes. “Just <em> why </em> were you so agitated about she-Potter dressing you up as a cat for Halloween.”</p><p>“<em> Bloody Slytherins,” </em>Hermione muttered and yanked the door open, ignoring the soft chuckle that Draco let out behind her as he followed. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 1, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t know if this trigger button will ever really go away, mum. But I can see how grief is livable. It’ll always be that beast inside of me that rears its head when I don’t expect it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it’s something I can live with. Because it’s like Draco told me all those months ago, even if I didn’t understand.  </em>
</p><p><em> A heart that's broken is a heart that's been loved </em>.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 19, 2005</em> </strong>
</p><p>The wind whipped through her hair, causing stray pieces to float up as if carried by magic instead. The graveyard was quiet, the sounds of civilization a distant hum in the background, as Hermione stared at the gravestone in front of her, hands loosely holding the lilies in front of her. </p><p>A day of remembrance. A day of hurt. A day when all she wanted to do was have her mum’s ear again and tell her about everything. About the pain, about the hurt. Someone she could cry to and know would be there for her unconditionally. </p><p>Squatting down and loosely draping her arms around her knees, she let the white calla lilies drop to the grave top as she glanced around. Seeing no one, she turned back. </p><p>
  <em> Jean M. Granger </em>
</p><p>
  <em> January 19th, 1953 - July 19th, 2004 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Loving wife, loving mother </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Never forgotten </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“There’s so much I wish I could talk to you about, mum,” Hermione’s voice was faint and she shook herself for feeling silly. “I’ve started seeing a mind healer, in the Wizarding World. He has muggle training too. We’ve been working through some of my issues from the war … and from losing you. And not being there.” Tears trickled down Hermione’s face and she quickly dashed them away. </p><p>“I know for all intents, I was there when it mattered. You weren’t … I know you weren’t really there anymore. But the body tries to keep us alive to the best it can.” Her lips pursed and she looked down, settling into a cross-legged position on the ground. “Ron and I still got married … and I was happy that day. When we got married. But …” the breath rushed out her nose loudly, “he didn’t know how to be there for me. We just … we were always different, but it fundamentally changed us, mum. The way you died. His need to always be a hero. I’ll always love him, but...not like that.” Hermione touched the spot on her finger where her ring had once sat. “The separation, it’s final today. A little too coincidental, but I’m glad to be … moving on.”</p><p>Hermione picked at her cuticle absently, hearing voices in the distance. She turned slightly and caught her dad talking animatedly. “Dad will be here soon,” she vocalized, twisting back around and tucking her hair back behind her ears. “He’s doing better, though. He’s talked about dating again,” her nose scrunched up softly, “and while I’m not a fan of that, I know you wouldn’t want him to be unhappy forever.” </p><p>Silence fell again and a bird twittered in a tree in the distance. David’s voice quieted in the distance and Hermione just allowed the sounds of nature to swallow her. Her eyes closed and she swayed slightly in place, wishing she could ask her mum so many questions and get an answer back. </p><p>The soft touch of fingers to the back of her head brought her back to the present, and she leaned back into the hand and opened her eyes. Draco’s grey eyes swirled as she made eye contact and she smiled slightly, feeling her heart thump in her chest. </p><p>“I think David wants some time with her,” His voice was quiet and he extended his hand down, pulling Hermione up as she grasped it. </p><p>Dropping his hand, she wiped at her jeans, making sure no dirt was stuck to her, and looked towards him with a smile, “Go ahead? I’ll be up in one second.” </p><p>His eyes narrowed slightly, but he turned and shoved his hands in his pockets before heading back to where David was standing. </p><p>Hermione turned once again, half a smile on her face. </p><p>“I don’t think I’ll be alone either, mum. I’d give anything to have you here with me … but I don’t know if it would have led him to me if you were.” Her voice was soft, but she nodded with finality. “I’ll always be splintered, part of me with the war, part of me with Ron, part of me with you … but isn’t that the sign of a life lived with love?” </p><p>Turning, Hermione abruptly walked away but paused as David came down the hill. “She’s all yours, dad.” She smiled up at her dad, who pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss to the side of her head. </p><p>Over her dad’s shoulder, she made eye contact with Draco who smiled softly at her. And while part of her was sitting back in that grave with her mum and would never leave that dark place … </p><p>Hermione knew that she would find the light again. She would live again - for her mum. For herself. </p><p>Because she didn’t feel quite as broken anymore.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>When I was looking at the Unhappily Ever After challenge prompts, this story came to me - and was really a spin-off of another story I was working on. To be honest, this story was a bit of therapy for me as I wrote - my mother died in 2017. While it was after a 15 year on and off again battle with cancer, it was not expected at that time. It was one of the hardest moments of my life - my mom was my best friend and was the only person I talked to on a daily basis. I was 26, had just finished my last year of grad school and was one week into my first "adult" job. </p><p>Every single person goes through grief differently. Many of these elements directly relate to struggles I had and am still working through. A lot of Hermione's frustrations in this story are frustrations I experienced every day. What was true for me may not be true for everyone. But everyone deserves to have the support they need to get through this and I hope, for those who have never gone through this, that the story might bring to light some of the things that people in this situation are experiencing. </p><p>And for those who feel like life can't get better. It will. It hurts every day. I think of my mom every day of my life. But there is life after. If you don't have anyone you're comfortable talking to, please call the suicide hotline. 1-800-273-8255.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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